


September

by sweetpea73



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of homophobia, Oral Sex, mentions of depression, tattooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetpea73/pseuds/sweetpea73
Summary: Kyungsoo learns that mayhem is an inked man with a killer smile named Kim Jongdae.





	September

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/129156877@N05/26806590788/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
>  
> 
> "Do you remember the 21st night of September? Love was changing the minds of pretenders while chasing the clouds away". 
> 
> Prompt - #286 florist x tattooist au
> 
> Inspired by "September" by Earth, Wind, and Fire , "take on me" by a-ha, the beegees, my 80's playlist, and Freddy Mercury. Inspired by gardens and floral tattoos.
> 
> Thank you to the prompter for the lovely chensoo, I hope I did you service. Thank you to the mods for a wonderful fic fest and plenty of support. Enjoy everyone!

Another day, another customer who gets caught off guard by the millions of little choices in their life and decides to take it out on the innocent flowers, who really just want to be left alone. 

Kyungsoo sighs. It’s another bride, but this time, with her mother. 

He spoke with the young woman over the phone with the arrangement she would like for each center piece at the tables, as well as the flora surrounding the reception area. She seemed delighted, confident in her own choices, even with being so shy over the phone. From her voice, Kyungsoo could already tell she was a girl with a pale palette, small voiced yet full of imaginative sparks. She would be arriving to pick them up, and Kyungsoo was sure that it was a smooth transaction. That is, until her mother walked through the door. 

The older woman took one look at the arrangement and her eyes burn through the blue hues and purple pale petals. She scolds him, “Where are the hydrangeas? She definitely needed hydrangeas.” 

Kyungsoo is stunned momentarily, because _how in the hell did he get roped into this_ , but he politely shows the receipt for the transaction. “Miss Soojin did not ask for hydrangeas, ma’am.” 

“Oh, no no no. That won’t do,” the mother is scolding under her breath, and her anger goes toward her daughter. “Soojin, sweetie. You need hydrangeas. They are an important part of the ceremony. Every bride has them.” 

“Mom, I didn’t think I needed them. We already have a lot of white at the wedding,” She says a little quietly, while Kyungsoo stands at his counter, his eyes flickering between the two women. He really wishes that people cared more about important things like world hunger, and not _bouquet arrangements with hydrangeas_.

“Of course we need them! No wedding is complete without those beautiful little flowers. Remember all those bouquets you liked? And auntie loves white flowers.” The mother is getting angrier and angrier by the second, and she’s flailing around the shop desperately for something. 

Kyungsoo really doesn’t want to be here. The mother plucks his precious hydrangeas from another arrangement and hastily sticks it into their own. It clashes horribly. The white strikes up too much conversation amongst the palest beautiful roses, and the brightness of the yellow accents are swallowed by the white. She tries to dress it up a little, fingers touching the delicate petals of the roses a little harshly. Kyungsoo is absolutely speechless. 

“Look, Soojin. Isn’t this nice? Huh? _Huh?_ ” She tugs them down a little more in the arrangement and completely ruins the symmetry Kyungsoo perfected this morning. To say that he was angry was an understatement. The fire burning in his throat to kick her out of the store is acidic, because _she touched his work of art_.

The bride looks a little defeated. “I guess so…”

“You did not just …,” Kyungsoo pulls his words back in. He plucks the mothers fingers off of the arrangement before she can do anymore damage. He is controlling himself, his reserve kicking in hard even though he wants to mouth both of them off. He breathes in and out through his nose, and pulls it in. 

“Let’s act civil here.” He eyes the mother, and she scoffs a little. “Miss Soojin, you asked for a softer lit bouquet, and I’ve arranged that here for you. If you would like, we can make additional changes.” 

Soojin looks to mother, eyes a little nervous. She nods. “Yes, I want to add some white flowers.” 

“Okay,” Kyungsoo relents. He picks up a few accent flowers that are at his station, but needs a couple more down towards the front of the shop. He floats between the aisles, fingers brushing past light petals and bountiful baskets of flora. It’s a rainbow of palettes – with the softest pinks and vibrant yellows, and the crimson roses and blue carnations. Green leaves brush him at every turn, and soon his hand is bunched with lightly colored flora. He lays the options against the counter, and both the mother and bride stare. 

“You want white flowers as accent pieces?” Kyungsoo asks, and the bride nods. Kyungsoo holds up two flowers that are almost identical in shape: lilies in a shade of white and a pale pink. As the professional florist that he is, he doesn’t want the arrangement to look ugly, but he tries his best to work with his clients and their strange demands. 

He points to the now hastily destroyed arrangement made haphazardly by the mother, the hydrangeas almost destroyed in the process. “Now, as you can see, the white hydrangeas really stand out and ruin the blend of color.” 

“We can do two things. One: we can still have hydrangeas, but we’ll have to swap out some of the colors to ease the transition. Or two: we can use a paler flower as an accent piece. See how the lily, a pale flower, softens the look rather than the white one?” Kyungsoo presses the two lilies against the arrangement. He can see the realization in the brides face, and she’s open to the idea. The mother is a little harder to read, but Kyungsoo doesn’t really care. It’s not her wedding day. 

“Personally, I would go with the lilac for this palette,” Kyungsoo recommends, as he holds up the purple little flower. “It’s a paler purple, and it will blend well with the other cooler colors and green. Your thoughts?” 

He smiles gently at the two women, and all bets were off. Hook, line, and sinker. The mother finally relented, and put on the fakest laugh he’s ever heard. She’s charmed instantly, “See! This is what I was trying to say Soojin. The lilacs! Aren’t they beautiful?” 

“But you said hydrangeas…”

“No, honey. It’s the lilacs. They are beautiful aren’t they? They’ll stand out so nicely on the white linen.” She smiles, bearing them in a way that seems to forceful and fake. He wants to shoo her out of his shop, but his words stop in his throat when she takes out her shiny credit card. Kyungsoo happily accepts the full payment with the new adjustments, and promises them for tomorrow morning. 

God, what he wouldn’t kill for a little escape. 

His little escapes come in the form of driving just outside of town to pick up lilacs from the greenhouse on his dinner break. He makes sure that the shop is locked, the keys turning into the white door. He leaves the cutely decorated window shop behind and hops into his small sedan parked on the street. 

Everything in this town is cute and perfect. The weather changes with the seasons, bringing rain to the plentiful gardens and dazzling snow blankets during the chillier seasons. It’s a quiet little town that Kyungsoo settled in to when he wanted to start his own business as a florist. Northoak is a nice commercial area with a couple residential districts right outside of the strip. Kyungsoo, however, can’t afford those prices, hence why he's living in the apartment directly above the shop. It’s convenient for the most part. He doesn’t spend much on gas, and he’s just a staircase away from his room. However, that goes without saying, usually work follows him home, and he spends nights with arrangements. 

Having his own business was not easy in the least, but it’s something he’s wanted for so long. Independence didn’t come cheap, but over the years Kyungsoo has made a name for himself in this cute town. That’s what he wanted. 

He glances over to the vacant building that’s attached to his shop, the second half of the building. It used to be a 24-hour convenience store owned by a man that had a few other chains under his belt. Kyungsoo didn’t mind it so much. The man didn’t live in the apartment above it, so Kyungsoo didn’t have to worry about a neighbor. However, the neon signs always blared brightly in the nighttime, in contrast to the sleeping flowers next door. The store closed down about six months ago and has been an empty shell ever since. There were a couple of offers made to the landlord, from what Kyungsoo could overhear, but nothing definitive. 

As Kyungsoo passes down the main street, he watches the shops turn on their twinkling lights to prepare for nighttime prowlers. It’s really beautiful at night. The street lamps light on each side with a soft glow, almost like stars. The shops windows give off a faint light that doesn’t blare against your eyes. It’s yellow and warm, dreamlike and impossible to not smile at. 

He passes the grocery store owned by an older gentleman who enlists the help of part-timers, including the highschool kids. Despite being a local owned store, the produce is fresh and the business thrives on its loyal customers. Plus, they make handmade pasta that Kyungsoo can’t refuse when he’s feeling a little sad. 

There’s the coffee shop on the corner that’s been newly renovated by the owner, Kim Minseok. Its exterior is sleek mahogany finish, and has cool black accent pieces to invite the curious onlookers in. In broad daylight, it looks quite cozy and homely, like you could go in with a good book and sip a green tea. At night, it blends into the darkness and has a jazzy feel to it with warm yellow lights reflecting out onto the sidewalks, beckoning you to come in for a late-night cappuccino. 

Kyungsoo remembers when he first arrived in Northoak, cold and damp from the rainstorm that passed through. He had all his belongings with him in two suitcases. The landlord was out of town for the evening because of the storm, leaving a damp and panicked Kyungsoo. He isn’t the type to ask for much help, scared of being a nuisance in his new town, but he just needed a quick bite to eat. After a croissant and the best latte he’s had in his life, he felt like Minseok was a man to trust, and he opened up to the barista. Coincidentally, Minseok was a generous man, and wouldn’t leave Kyungsoo out on the streets that night, instead offering him his couch. It’s the first of many offerings this town had to give Kyungsoo, and the young man felt comfort. 

The music shop is closing shortly, Kyungsoo notes, as he watches the taller employee flip the closed sign around. It contrasts some of the darkness the coffee shop gives, especially with its white exterior and garden beds outside that Kyungsoo offered nicely. It sports a white picket fence around it, only because the daycare next door needed to house the kids somehow. 

The music shop holds many different instruments, audio equipment, and lessons hosted by some of the employees, some of which Kyungsoo has become acquainted with. There’s Baekhyun, the pianist. He’s older by a few years, but certainly doesn’t act like it. He’s the type to sport wildly different hair colors each month just to shake things up, and his mouth runs faster than an Olympian. There’s also Chanyeol, the guitar and bass teacher. He’s also a little older than Kyungsoo, and just as talkative as Baekhyun. He’s lanky and participates in every acoustic festival known to man. 

Kyungsoo just happened to meet the two musicians during the community slam fest in the park down the street. They both happily greeted and supported the newest member in their community with loud laughter and hugs (even when Kyungsoo wasn’t really up for hugs from strangers). Kyungsoo was dazzled by their skills during a live performance, and got the courage to ask them out for drinks. They’ve been friends ever since, and Kyungsoo enjoyed the comfort of feeling belonged. 

Kyungsoo passes the daycare, dentist, a string of offices, and the high school before finally turning down the road to the greenhouse. Unfortunately, because of zoning laws, Kyungsoo could not have his personal greenhouse near the actual floral shop. From popular demand, Kyungsoo needed to expand his variety and supply, thus needing the extra greenhouse. It’s his second home, furnished with some homely supplies and thousands of flower buds. 

Kyungsoo pulls up to the greenhouse, the tinted windows revealing only shadows of the growing flowers. He unlocks the gated community and presses into the warm house. It’s wonderful, the aroma of freshness calming him down before the actual work. He’s brought a few things from home to eat, but he’s afraid that it might not be enough. With the amount of work he has tonight, he’ll have to just stay in the greenhouse for the night to finish in the morning. 

Kyungsoo groans, plopping down on the old sofa he stored in the house. He unravels some sheets for the floor in case of shredded petals, and begins to pluck the best lilacs he can find in the bushel in the corner. He arranges the lilacs around lilies and roses and carnations, each way posing them slightly for the perfect angle. Wrapping is a delicate process, but his fingers are nimble by nature. It’s only a half hour until he’s perfected the first arrangement. 

He sighs. Only 59 more to go, and the night is still young. 

-

He wakes up before the sun is about to blare into the tinted windows of the greenhouse. Kyungsoo groans when he stretches. He feels an ache in his neck, probably from laying his head in the crook of the couch without much support. He blinks wearily at the 60 full arrangements that he didn’t load into his car, and he sighs forcefully when he stands. He knows he’s going to be sore. 

After a warm welcome from the sun, and two car trips back and forth full of bountiful bouquets, Kyungsoo is beat and horribly hungry. Last nights popcorn wasn’t the most filling, and his sad excuse for a sandwich the lunch before didn’t suffice. The only thing that has him at least a little bit hopeful is the fact that it’s Saturday. And Saturday means his weekly breakfast with the loud ones. 

Kyungsoo finds himself exhausted at their usual table, staring dully into his Americano. There’s usually two ways on how breakfast goes: either Baekhyun is shrilly and completely sober, or grumpy with a hangover. Sporting tinted sunglasses indoors with a sweater that attempts to hide blooming hickeys when he walks in, it seems today he’s the latter. 

“Fuck me,” Baekhyun groans as he slips into his chair. 

“Good morning to you too.” Kyungsoo sips his warm drink, and it has that excellent bite. “You didn’t respond to my texts, so I figured it was a green tea kind of day.” 

As soon as he says it, one of the waiters brings out the white mug steaming with the herbal remedy. Baekhyun is taken away by the steam and clears his throat. “You’re a Godsend, you know that?” 

Kyungsoo shrugs, and tries another attempt at his sudoku puzzle. Early morning breakfast on Saturdays didn’t have to be their thing, but it was. The routine felt nice, especially when the other two always showed up enthusiastic for it too. They always had it, even if any of their Friday night activities were worthy of sleeping in on Saturday. 

Baekhyun sips his tea and makes his weird gasps of appreciation after every sip, like the praising will somehow make his dehydrated mistakes go away. Kyungsoo checks his phone a couple of times, but it turns up empty. They both are in silence, sitting peacefully for a change. 

Baekhyun then clears his throat again, “Incoming in three, two, ….”

Chanyeol bursts through Minseok’s café doors still in his gym clothes, with a grand side eye from the owner, and makes his dramatic entrance even more spectacular when he practically eats the floor. He pants, reaching his seat in a record time. 

“You’re late,” Kyungsoo finishes, shuffling his sudoku book pages, eyes stuck on the empty boxes. 

Chanyeol whines, “I know, I know. The traffic was bad at the school when I was coming back from the gym and –“

“Yo, I don’t want to hear it, gym rat,” Baekhyun hisses, both hands now wrapped around his tea. “I’m fucking dying, yet I showed up like a good friend.” 

“It’s not my fault you make poor decisions when you're drunk.” 

Baekhyun snips, “If you were a good friend, you’d leave me a glass of water before I went to bed.” 

“I.was.not.home.you.dumb.ass.” Chanyeol claps just for emphasis, and it’s practically killing Baekhyun. It also makes Kyungsoo mess up his line, and now he’s got to start over. Chanyeol looks over to Minseok, who’s still angrily looking at him for disturbing the peace, and he wilts. “Anyway, I’m sorry for being late. I’ll go to the gym earlier next time.” 

Kyungsoo shrugs again, not entirely willing to say he’s upset because letting Chanyeol simmer in the guilt is a lot more fun. Minseok reluctantly hands Chanyeol a water with a sneer, and Chanyeol accepts it shyly. Since Chanyeol has been on a health kick, he’s been skipping out on the delicious syrup filled lattes he usually gets. Minseok has been salty as hell about it. 

Their usual order comes in piping hot. Breakfasts at Minseok’s are always the best. Kyungsoo gets sunny side eggs with bacon, and his usual buttery croissant. Baekhyun is doing his hangover special consisting of their biggest omelet with extra cheese and a big pile of hash browns. Chanyeol, now on the health kick, gets two eggs and turkey sausage, but his mouth is watering at the smell of Baekhyun’s greasy hash browns. 

“So, Soo, you missed the town hall meeting last night,” Baekhyun begins, his throat now clear. He looks a little less pale too. He digs into his cheesy omelet, the cheese oozing out onto the plate. 

Kyungsoo sighs, “Yeah, I had to redo a clients order. Spent the night at the greenhouse.” 

“You missed Junmyeon being pissy about the school budget. _Again_ ,” Chanyeol quips, and practically scarfs down his breakfast. 

Baekhyun slices more into his omelet. “You also missed the new business. Apparently, the town just finished the paperwork, and a guy’s moving in to the vacant shop next to you.” 

“Really?” Kyungsoo hums. He does recall a moving truck outside of his shop when he returned this morning, but he didn’t really think anything of it. He crunches on his bacon, the saltiness tingling his lips. “What’s it going to be?” 

“I think he said he was an artist?” Baekhyun looks over to Chanyeol to confirm, and Chanyeol tilts his head. Baekhyun pauses a for moment in thought, and then realizes, “Ah, no. Tattoo artist. That’s what it was.” 

“A tattoo shop?” Kyungsoo pauses from eating, struck suddenly by the revelation. Baekhyun and Chanyeol nod, continuing to eat. Kyungsoo is a little flabbergasted. “A tattoo shop, in little old Northoak, next to _my flower shop_.”

Chanyeol and Baekhyun both pause when they see Kyungsoo red at the news. Kyungsoo scoffs incredulously, “Do you see the irony in that? Isn’t that a bad influence too? We’ve got a school down the street.” 

Baekhyun laughs, “I think you should be more concerned with Chanyeol’s taste in music. You should see the things he gives the kids for lessons. Absolutely terrible.” 

“The White Stripes and ZZ Top are classics,” Chanyeol spits. He steals some of Baekhyun’s hash browns because he has no self-control. “And I don’t complain about your _musical theatre background_. I’m sure that’s not the best influence either. I just heard Mary tell her kids that the vaccines are turning her sons gay. Could you imagine if I told her that her kids piano teacher is a wanna-be Freddie Mercury?” 

Baekhyun chokes on his omelet, and Kyungsoo is still fuming. He shakes his head in disbelief. He feels like he’s arguing with himself. “You guys don’t get it, do you? Tattoos are a _permanent decision_.”

Baekhyun snaps his head toward Kyungsoo and barks, “So was putting datura’s outside of the shop. They smell so bad.” 

“I told you not to buy them, you dumb –“ Kyungsoo is reduced to growls and groans when the subject is suddenly detoured. He slams his fist on the table and gets his two friends attention. “Not the point. Tattoos. Ink injected into your skin. It’s permanent, it hurts. Tattoo removal is even worse. It’s basically a gateway drug.” 

“I wouldn’t call it that…,” Chanyeol mumbles, but instantly shrinks when Kyungsoo’s fire eyes glare at him. He’s a coward. “Oh yeah, totally. You know what they say: tattoos are the new heroin.” 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, a frown deep in his pouty mouth. “Whatever. He seems like a nice guy. Maybe you should go meet your neighbor first instead of being a Gossip Gabby behind his back.” 

Kyungsoo still has fire in his belly, eager for another fight, but it simmers once the other two don’t play along. Kyungsoo isn’t petty, he wouldn’t talk about a person he doesn’t know. He can certainly still judge a person on their tastes though, and that’s why he completely ignores the situation. 

Walking back to his shop, he’s now hyperaware of the movers on his block. There’s some burly men lifting heavy packages into the tiny shop next door. They wave to him, all friendly and nice, but Kyungsoo is petty and beelines toward the shop with just a simple ‘hello’. 

Kyungsoo goes to water the lilies outside his shop and discreetly watches the men work behind his watering can. There’s a man on the ladder outfitting a sign on top of the shop. When he extends his leg slightly for some height, Kyungsoo notices the tattoo on his ankle of a snake. Kyungsoo hisses and goes back to drowning the lilies. 

-

The weekend and next week go by treacherously, making Kyungsoo’s life a lot less simple. Since next door is under construction, he wakes early in the morning to renovations. Customers squeak by the couple of vans that are now blocking the open spots in front of his shop, and his outdoor displays are temporarily displaced because of the movers. Kyungsoo, of course, agreed to all of the movers requests, because he doesn’t want to be known as the towns stickler, but he’s still grumpy about his decision. 

Business still booms, and guests passing by gasp at the new renovations, and to Kyungsoo’s dismay, with delight. Multiple customers come up to his shop, in his territory, solely to ask about the neighbors. Kyungsoo kindly offers little information, but offers them a discount on flowers. No takers thus far. 

Kyungsoo has strategically avoided any contact with the new owner or any employees thus far. He doesn’t even take a peek at the shop, despite the tiniest amount of curiosity. He’s stubborn as all hell, rooted in his disdain for the art form. In his opinion, most tattoos aren’t even worth the life it will give. Job offers plummet for tattooed employees, and most people he’s met have regretted them. 

Kyungsoo finds himself at his counter, with no arrangements to be filled. It’s Wednesday, and all of his orders have been filled and properly delivered. He’s swept the shop twice already, and has not once looked at his neighbor’s corner. Today, the moving vans disappeared, and Kyungsoo hopes it’s for good. 

He’s lazily tying a ribbon around a bunch of baby’s breath when the familiar chime of bells rings up at the front. The front door is somewhat blocked by the huge ferns in the aisle, so Kyungsoo has to crane his neck around to spot the customer. Much to Kyungsoo’s dismay, despite his effort, he does not spot the customer so easily, even though he can hear unfamiliar steps on his tiles. He groans a little when he lifts himself off of the counter and has to actually socialize. 

He peaks his head down each aisle to try and spot the newcomer. The last aisle he turns down, he spots a new person marveling at the bunches of daises planted in high baskets Kyungsoo made that morning. Kyungsoo’s heart thumps loudly in his throat as he silently watches the delighted customer reach up on his toes for the daises. He’s definitely attractive, and definitely way out of Kyungsoo’s league, and _fuck_ he’s staring at his flowers. He sports a fresh face, a clean cut jawline, and some dark locks plastered on his forehead in a fringe. His almond eyes still scan the lattice wall, eyes following the trail. 

Kyungsoo waits just a moment or two more to continue to embarrassingly stare at the attractive customer. He wears a simple long sleeved button up, despite the hotter season, and his joggers cup tightly around skinny legs. They have similar fashion styles, but this newcomer pulls it off with such finesse, he makes it look effortless. Kyungsoo’s just ends up looking too casual. 

It gets a little awkward, so Kyungsoo clears his throat and eases the scene. The newcomer doesn’t move much, and Kyungsoo has to take more action. He cautiously says, “D-do you need some help?” 

Damn him and his damn mouth. He blushes slightly when the customer finally blinks (rather cutely, Kyungsoo might add), and acknowledges the florists presence. What happens next will be told for many generations to come, passed to each Do family member as a sacred moment. The customer mellows into a pleasant grin, so much so his eyes are closed by the intensity. It’s a bolt of sunshine, like a sunflower opening to face the sun. It’s highly contagious, and Kyungsoo matches with a more genuine grin than he usually puts on for customers. 

“No, not really. I’m just browsing around, picking up a few things,” his voice is light and understanding, something Kyungsoo doesn’t get too often. He readjusts a basket of the daisies in his hands and eyes the bushels of flowers next to him. Kyungsoo can’t help but stare at the strangers eyes. They’re full of pleasantries and a warmness that Kyungsoo finds rare in this town. Most people are pleasant, but kindness definitely comes short (especially with those stingy girl scout troops. Fuck you, Brenda). 

“- you know?” 

“Uh,” Kyungsoo says intelligently, stuck on the sound. He smacks his lips. “Yup.” 

The stranger gapes a little. “So, you really do think aliens exist?” 

Kyungsoo’s jaw drops a little, gaping with embarrassment. He’s gurgling at the misunderstanding, searching for words, until he realizes the stranger is laughing. His eyes crinkle up in order to make room for his gigantic smile. It’s kind of nice, even though he was definitely tricking him. 

“I’m kidding. You looked like you were zoning out, I couldn’t resist,” his chuckle dies down, yet his eyes are full of mirth. He licks his lips, and Kyungsoo follows the trail. He then picks up the bundle of daisies in the pretty wicker basket that Kyungsoo made in the late night from a Pinterest board. The one the cute guy picks up is probably the one he made before he got plastered off of boxed wine. “That will be a conversation for a different time. Now, I just need some flowers.” 

“We’ve got plenty of them.” 

_Smooth_.

“I can see that.” 

The customer wanders around the shop, eyeing the beautifully bright flora in particular. He coos at the pink tulips, and laughs at the gigantic ferns that he nearly trips over. Kyungsoo hovers around him, watching the customers input on the flora. He doesn’t have anything in particular to do, and this customer is easily entertaining at the moment. It sure beats the mothers criticizing the droopy orchids out front. 

The customer pauses at a chalkboard sign sitting on a wooden stool and tilts his head, lips mouthing around the text. He turns, and points to the sign, “You do arrangements, Kyungsoo?” 

Kyungsoo flusters around his name being called without proper introductions, but he quickly remembers the name tag pinned on his black apron, name spelt out neatly. He nods, now eerily aware of the sweat on his temple. “Yes. You can choose the flowers, and I’ll arrange them.” 

The customer smiles sinisterly, and it’s really intriguing. “So, if I just happen to choose the ugliest combo, you’ll do it anyway?” 

“To each their own. I like happy customers,” Kyungsoo says, swallowing the lump in his throat. “But I will try to persuade them to something a little … _nicer_.”

He laughs so brightly, it makes Kyungsoo break into a bashful smile. “You totally judge people on their flower choices. Oh, I like you.” 

Kyungsoo blushes at the compliment, and the customer revels in the new bond. The enthusiastic customer goes around the shop, picking up different flora, and, of course, Kyungsoo follows diligently. He gives honest opinions to the new customers choices, but he doesn’t have much negative to say about them. The guy is careful with choosing, which is something the average flower browser doesn’t have. He picks colors that complement each other – like the popping blue irises with the pale albino lilies, or blood orange mums with burgundy dahlias. He is gentle with each petal as he caresses each for their texture. His fingers glide over gingerly, as if dusting off piano keys, light and lingering. It’s a little breath taking. 

“That should be enough,” the customer hums, eyes searching at the armful Kyungsoo carries behind him. He smiles widely and appreciative, and it makes Kyungsoo’s insides squirm. This guy is quite the charmer. “Here, let me take those.” 

As the customer leans to grab, he involuntarily slides up his sleeves of his shirt. Normally, this is just a common human gesture to have clothing out of the way, but it reveals an entire new side to this charmer. Kyungsoo’s eyes automatically go to the customers forearms, each one scribbled in ink and color. They start at his wrists and quickly shoot up into his arms, and there’s much more ducking underneath his clothed upper arms, Kyungsoo is sure of it. They aren’t tiny things that Kyungsoo could easily forget – they are huge portraits. It makes Kyungsoo’s insides squirm more thoroughly, but this time with a different feel. It’s a shock at least. 

The guy must have seen Kyungsoo’s wide eyed stares, because he blinks down to his arms and laughs awkwardly. He scratches the back of his neck, eyes crinkled when he smiles. “Ah, yeah, _those_. I actually own the tattoo shop next door, and I was checking out some local places. Flower tattoos are really in right now, and so I thought I should stop by and grab some real references. Everyone says this place is the best flower shop around.” 

His words are kind, really, but all Kyungsoo can do is stare at the ink wrapped around the customers arms. Most of them are faded, old and weathered. Most color is washed out of the flowing water on his left arm. The florist thinks it’s a shame that this guy wasted his money just to mutilate his skin. And with his suave tone, he could definitely lure in naïve teens to mark them. It’s a little upsetting. 

“Here, I can take those from you –“

“I’m fine.” Kyungsoo swings his bundle away from the customers reach and stomps up to the counter. He sets them down, not hastily because he isn’t that cruel, on the counter top and rings the flowers out. He doesn’t give the other direct eye contact because he’s feeling a shiver of shame for even thinking about someone with sleeves of colorful ink. 

“Your total is 40,” Kyungsoo says flatly, devoid of any thrill. 

“Wow. For such a good price, too. Honestly, I don’t know why this shop isn’t blooming,” the customer grins at his own cheesy remark, and Kyungsoo can almost appreciate the flower pun, but it cannot make up for the ink. The customer pouts at the deflated joke. 

Kyungsoo handles the transaction professionally, even with the customer blindly smiling at him and admiring the way Kyungsoo carefully places the delicate flowers off to the side to be wrapped. The basket of daises is easily handed off to the customer, and Kyungsoo is about to send him off –

“Say Kyungsoo, is the owner around by any chance? I’d love to meet the neighbors,” the customer requests, leaning into the counter with hopeful eyes. Kyungsoo thinks he’s going to burst from anger, but he stifles back the irritated groan. 

“I am the owner,” he says, again very flatly. The tattooist gapes his mouth with an ‘O’, eyes widening for a second, and then simmering to that broad smile. He lifts his open hand over the counter and gestures toward it. 

“I’m sorry! I just …,” he hesitates, but then shakes it off. “Well, I’m Jongdae – your neighbor. Pleasure to finally meet you, Kyungsoo. It felt like we could never really match our schedules up to meet.” 

Kyungsoo looks at the hand stretched out, and it’s nice. It’s pure, no tainted ink on it. They’ve been worn down, like Kyungsoo’s, and he must work with his hands a lot. Attached to those hands is a wrist, and there’s a distinct line where the purity of hand clashes with the manmade art. It’s jarring. 

Kyungsoo takes it anyway because his mother always taught him to be polite. “I’m busy a lot.” 

Jongdae nods, accepting the response. He stands there with the basket of daises in his hand and a cute little curl of a smile. If Kyungsoo ignores the others arms, he still thinks the other is really cute standing there. 

Jongdae is nice and smooth, adding, “Well, do you want to come over and take a tour of the shop? I’ve got shortened hours this week, so it won’t be a bother.” 

Kyungsoo stomps it immediately, mostly because he’s flustered by the sudden kindness. “I’m sort of busy. You know… with stuff. And orders. And pesky customers. And I’m usually busy. All the time.” 

“Oh.” Jongdae blinks. “Okay, well then, I won’t keep you. If you ever do have some spare time, you’re welcome over to the shop. I would love to see you there!” 

He lifts the basket of daises as he exits, with promises of returning tomorrow for his decor on his tongue. Once the bell chimes of his exit, Kyungsoo collapses against the countertop, exhausted from the interaction. This pretty boy with distasteful tattoos was not what he needed in his life. 

-

Kyungsoo likes to think that God is a sick-trickster who gets a tickle of laughter by causing little humans misery. Somehow, Kyungsoo is just hyper-aware of tattoos – or they just seem to pop up everywhere he goes now. He blames the tattoo shop. Now, almost everyone in this town is sporting tattoos. 

“Hey, do you think I should get it on my back, or my chest?” A highschool boy asks his friends, who all sit by the bus stop when Kyungsoo passes by on the sidewalk. It makes his skin crawl when he thinks about the young boys marking their skin for fun. 

Another laughs, “Well if you get it on your back, you’d better get a girlfriend soon so she can lotion you.” 

The boy puffs out his cheeks, blushing. “You guys are no fun!” 

Kyungsoo immediately turns into the grocery store, trying his best to shake off the grudge that’s rooted in his heart from the young kids. He hopes that passing through the aisles of fruit and vegetables will settle his thoughts. He’s got a list and a cart, and, with good intentions, he’s going to get this done. 

This past month has been a test of Kyungsoo’s strength, something he hasn’t had to do in a while since his adult life. He knows what he stands for. He’s had time to think about philosophical discussions and his thoughts about politics, human rights, and sexualities. From his understanding, an adult is someone that’s reassured in his own beliefs, and no longer has to question what they stand for. Adults have their stances figured out, and Kyungsoo is firm that he is adulting well. 

The tattoo shop is proving to be a difficult trial for Kyungsoo. In his community, he’s found his place. He’s the nice florist, considerate of others, and works in a timely fashion. He doesn’t cause commotion in the suburbs, nor is he boastful of his presence. He’s humble in his work. However, the tattoo shop makes him on edge. 

Every day, there’s at least one customer that chimes his bell, opening his doors, only to leave Kyungsoo disappointed when they were actually looking for the tattoo shop. They have bright smiles, asking about the new store and its owner, and Kyungsoo has to politely give vague answers. Business is booming at the tattoo shop, and consequently, so is the flower shop. That isn’t something Kyungsoo should complain about, but he certainly didn’t need Jongdae’s help. He didn’t want to be in that sort of spotlight. 

Kyungsoo hasn’t gotten to know his neighbor yet, either. He hasn’t had a neighbor since he was young. He doesn’t know how to act, if there are any social procedures he should follow. There’s movies where neighbors give gifts to each other as welcoming presents, or invite each other over for dinners, but Kyungsoo gets flustered just thinking about the interaction. Firstly, Jongdae is a conversationalist – if it wasn’t apparent from their first meeting – and Kyungsoo is not. Secondly, the tattoo artist and him don’t have anything in common, or Kyungsoo thinks they don’t have anything in common. Why try when he knows it’s doomed to go nowhere? 

The one thing Kyungsoo can’t complain about is the mornings. Every morning, 6:30 am sharp, Kyungsoo is down the buildings shared stairs and ready to unlock his shop. Coincidentally, Jongdae is always there, bounding down the same stairs, jingling his keys. He’s quiet in the morning, not striking up conversation early. The first time they descended down together and opened their shops simultaneously, Kyungsoo had an urge to speak to fill the void, but he never did. Neither did Jongdae. He only gave a brief smile, a sunshine one, and entered his shop. 

Now, the mornings are filled with padded steps, a few hesitant glances, keys turning simultaneously, and a quick flash of a smile. Kyungsoo hates to admit it, but he likes it the routine. Jongdae is quite the considerate neighbor in the morning. 

Kyungsoo makes his way down the aisles, picking things up to resemble a healthy meal. He knows how to cook for himself, but pasta always tastes better than the vegetable substitutes. Chanyeol has been texting him about ‘zoodles’ – the newest fad in trying to get rid of delicious carbs – and Kyungsoo reluctantly picks up zucchini, even though he knows he’s going to hate it. Nothing can replace delicious carbs. 

Kyungsoo hears a boisterous laugh at the other aisle, one that he was going to enter shortly. Kyungsoo hesitantly enters the canned food aisle and freezes at the scene. In the middle of the store aisle is two familiar faces – Jongdae and Baekhyun, side by side, each with their own cart. They have matching grins, Jongdae’s more blinding then Baekhyun’s. Jongdae’s arms are covered, and he adorns a snapback on slicked backed locks. He looks casual. It looks really good. 

Baekhyun’s eyes are lit up, generous and tuned to Jongdae’s laughter. They look very nice together. Kyungsoo could see them getting along well, but now it seems they are stuck together. It looks like Jongdae won’t be shaken off Kyungsoo any time soon. 

“Oh, hey, Kyungsoo?” Jongdae calls, eyebrows lifted up his forehead so high, it almost touches the brim of the snapback. Kyungsoo gives a meek wave and immediately aborts his mission. He didn’t need crushed tomatoes anyway. 

“Hey.” Baekhyun snatches him before Kyungsoo can scurry away. Curse Baekhyun and his spider-like reflexes. “Are you coming over for dinner? You didn’t answer my texts.” 

Kyungsoo blinks, and realization bonks against his head. He did see Baekhyun’s text about dinner, but he ignored and forgot it. Baekhyun likes to hold dinner parties at his place, but isn’t one to cook. Kyungsoo has been dragged out to them so many times just to end up salvaging the burnt pots Baekhyun leaves in his wake. Kyungsoo normally doesn’t mind it, especially since Baekhyun has tasty wine, but the way Jongdae expectantly waits for an answer as well doesn’t make Kyungsoo feel good at all. 

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo starts, his eyes shifting from Jongdae’s incredibly puzzled stare to Baekhyun’s expecting one. He feels a bit nervous under both of them. “I’ve got a lot of work…”

“You always have work. Come on, that’s a lame excuse.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “It’s a town-warming party for Jongdae. I needed help with the fettucine.” 

He says that it’s for Jongdae, as if it’s an incentive, but it doesn’t stick to Kyungsoo. He shrugs. 

“I’m sorry. Maybe next time.” He’s not, and he’s not going next time either. “I’ve got a $5,000 order for a graduation that I’ve got to fill.” 

He’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t drop a little when Jongdae’s eyes saddened a little, his curled lips looking forced. 

“But, you’ve got this, Baek. If not, YouTube tutorials are a thing,” Kyungsoo says, and he doesn’t miss Baekhyun’s exasperated sigh. “Sorry, I have to go. These arrangements can’t make themselves.” 

“Yeah. But I’m going to hold you to the next time,” Baekhyun smugly says as Kyungsoo slowly backs out of the aisle. Jongdae gives a wave goodbye, and Kyungsoo’s heart is thumping in his chest. 

To make matters worse, the check out line is incredibly slow. He watches Jongdae Baekhyun easily fall into laughs at the self-check out lines, familiarity oozing between them. Kyungsoo _totally_ isn’t jealous. 

God is definitely mocking him, because Jongin – the baby-faced cashier – is sporting a tiny tattoo on his wrist. It’s a treble clef, nicely floating like a ribbon. Kyungsoo knows this kid, he’s going to community college and stopped by almost every week to Kyungsoo’s shop for roses for his girlfriend. He’s a nice kid, he’s genuinely good natured, but now tainted with unnatural ink, albeit small. 

“The total is $50.64,” Jongin drones, tired from the day. The older lady at the end is bagging Kyungsoo’s groceries still when the payment is finished. Kyungsoo proceeds to help her out, and the orange slips accidentally from her hand as she tries to place it in the bag. 

“Sorry, dear,” she mumbles sweetly. 

“No problem, really …” Kyungsoo reaches down to get the fruit from the tiled floor and notices the swirling ink at the older lady’s ankle. It’s elegant and a little faded. His stomach drops. “You’ve got a tattoo?” 

“Oh, yes,” the older woman smiles proudly. She hikes up her pant leg a little to reveal script of a name circling her boney ankle. “A tribute to my mother. She passed away from skin cancer so suddenly.” 

Kyungsoo swallows nervously, “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

The older woman waves it off. “It’s alright, honey. She’s in a better place now. And I’ll always have her with me, wrapped around me.” 

It touches Kyungsoo’s heart kind of nicely. It’s a heart-felt gesture, and something that holds meaning to her. He smiles down at her genuinely and leaves the store feeling strangely. 

-

“I think I’m going crazy.” 

Kyungsoo lays on Chanyeol’s studio floor, eyes following the ceiling pattern. It’s the chord progression of the Bee Gee’s “Stayin’ Alive” – Chanyeol’s self-proclaimed anthem when he was in college. Kyungsoo hums the catchy tune once in a while when he enters the room, the music somehow ingrained in the room. 

Chanyeol is strumming his bass casually, waiting for the next client to come in. The next kid is coming right after school, and lunch is nearing soon. They’ve got a couple hours to kill. 

“What’s it this time?” Chanyeol strums again, the strings bouncing in a low hum. Kyungsoo would take offense to the comment, but he’s still humming the Bee Gee’s. 

“Everyone in this town has a tattoo now, I swear on my life,” Kyungsoo says, sitting up. “The cashier and bagger at the grocery, the pizza delivery guy, the principal of the school. The list goes on.” 

Chanyeol slides the notes down, a smooth glissando. He smirks. “Look at you, being all observant. Are your tattoo senses tingling, Spider-Soo?” 

Kyungsoo glares. “It’s the tattoo shop, I swear. I heard high school kids saying they were getting tattoos.” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, plucking the string again. “All high schoolers always say stupid shit like that. Doesn’t mean they’re gonna do it.” 

“Yeah, but Jongdae’s enabling them,” Kyungsoo huffs, tired from arguing this over and over again. 

Chanyeol snorts, “Yeah, right. Jongdae totally has a hex on the town.” 

“Maybe,” Kyungsoo mutters, eyes drifting to Chanyeol with an embarrassed flush. It sounds a little crazy, but Kyungsoo definitely thinks some higher power is playing a mind game with him. 

“Jesus, Kyungsoo, do you even hear yourself?” Chanyeol scoffs, finally placing his bass in his case. “Jongdae’s got to be one of the nicest guys that’s moved to Northoak in years.” 

“They said that about Ted Bundy, and look at him!” 

Chanyeol’s mouth drops open like a tunnel waiting for a train. “Did you really just compare your neighbor to a serial killer?” 

Okay, yeah, it was a stretch. Kyungsoo is a little bit regretful of the ludicrous comparison, but he’s not at all backing off of his suspicion. He doesn’t know Jongdae’s motives. He could be money hungry, charming his way through the town and insisting on tattoos. He could be a patron saint that gives out tattoos like they are gifts from God. Kyungsoo doesn’t know him well enough. 

Kyungsoo plays with the shag rug on the ground, picking some loose strands easily. Chanyeol shakes his head incredulously at his friend. “Why are you so against tattoos?” 

Kyungsoo pauses, not really knowing the complete answer himself. It’s been a thought that’s been taught to him since he was young. He repeats the mantra his mother told him, “I think they are a waste of money, and not worth the pain.” 

“Okay, I can see that. You’re usually a penny-pincher anyway,” Chanyeol replies cheekily, and Kyungsoo slaps his shin. “Do you think they’re nice to look at?” 

“I guess so. Some are. Depends on what it is,” Kyungsoo says thoughtfully. There’s many different types, just like there are different types of art work and styles. Scripts, colors, big, small. “Just, back at home, most people I know always says they regretted them.” 

Kyungsoo’s town growing up was a gated community with lots of Korean families, all immigrated. Their values and culture stayed, including their wariness to tattoos. Any ahjumma or ahjussi that sported tattoos from rebellious years always warned young Kyungsoo of their mistakes. It’s only fair that Kyungsoo was reminded of mistakes every time he saw the art work. 

Chanyeol hums for a second, contemplating the situation. It’s silent in the room, which is crazy to say. Usually there’s some bass strumming, or jam session in the next room, but today it’s quiet. 

“I don’t think it’s fair for you judge someone’s character based on tattoos, that’s all,” Chanyeol shrugs, trying to look indifferent, but it’s off. There’s something soft about Chanyeol’s tone, the way his voice wavers in the way he speaks about the topic with sensitivity. Kyungsoo can see that Chanyeol is genuinely hurt by his outright generalization of everyone with tattoos. It’s an art, but something Kyungsoo never really got to appreciation. He supposes that it’s time that he ought to, while he has the chance. 

“Not everyone regrets their tattoos,” Chanyeol says thoughtfully, and Kyungsoo nods. 

-

Kyungsoo tries his best to breathe, in and out, not too fast or else he’d be light-headed. There’s one foot in front of the other as he slowly walks out of his own shop and closes it for the day. It’s an early day for him, mostly because of the holiday weekend coming up. He wills himself another foot in front of the other until he’s next door and staring into the window panes of the tattoo shop. He wrings his hands nervously, reading the shops signs name over and over again, memorizing the font. 

It’s now or never, he supposes, and pushes open the door. 

The door triggers little bells at the top to ring gently, and Kyungsoo sees movement at the end of the open floor room. Jongdae’s head pokes up, snapback swooping his hair in, eyes wide at the bells. Kyungsoo pauses, trying his best to close his door, while at the same time staring at his neighbor without looking absolutely terrified. He probably looks like a fish out of water. 

But Jongdae’s brilliant smile radiates across the room, and washes Kyungsoo down. He greets, “Hey! Nice to see you here, Kyungsoo.” 

Kyungsoo finally closes the door and nervously smiles. “I closed up shop early, and I figured it would be a good time to check your place out.” 

"I’m honored you’d take time out of your day just for me,” Jongdae teases with a whine, and Kyungsoo flushes slightly at the flirt (was it a flirt? Oh God, Kyungsoo has been out of the game for a while). Jongdae waves his tatted arm over. “Come on over! I want to show you this awesome sketch.” 

Kyungsoo presses forward, walking into unfamiliar territory. The shop is very clean. The floors are polished wood, and there’s only two stations set for tattooing, each identical in a simple style. Everything is black and white, except for the warm grey walls sporting sketches, photographs of beautiful ink work, and the shops name _September_ laid neatly on the back wall. 

Also, Kyungsoo notices that his flowers were everywhere. Every shelf sported a flower, blooming beautifully and well kept, even after a couple of months. The sprouts of color really compliment the shop nicely and liven up the place. 

Kyungsoo slides next to Jongdae, who sits at a desk. It’s been built into a work station, best for his sketches. There’s pencils scattered everywhere, and water colors pooled off to the side. It’s a little chaotic for Kyungsoo’s tastes, but seemingly quirky for Jongdae. 

“Here,” Jongdae says, revealing the product. It’s a sketch of art work, and Kyungsoo is instantly drawn to the handmade design. It’s a pool of water with tiny ripples blending into it. The sky is mirrored in the water, constellations and the moon reflecting into the water seamlessly. Kyungsoo is honestly a little speechless at the talent. 

Jongdae grins nicely. “Cool, right? I’m almost done with the sketch, and I’ll be consulting the piece tomorrow when the client comes in. I think he’s gonna love it.” 

Kyungsoo’s heart leaps when Jongdae looks to him with that beautiful sunshine smile, and the nerves Kyungsoo tries to forget are leaping in his throat. He’s barely holding steady, ready to jump up and bolt out of the door. He blinks, unsure of what to say, and stumbles on something familiar, “You have a lot of my flowers.” 

_Yeah, real smooth Kyungsoo._

“Oh, yeah! Whenever I post something on the shop’s Instagram, people always want to know where I get the flowers from. You should get an Instagram – you’d get a ton of followers, I sure of it,” Jongdae grins proudly, flipping his phone out and scrolling through his feed. Sure enough, there’s thousands of hearts on pictures, and many comments asking about the flowers. Kyungsoo flushes a little, proud of the unintended compliments. 

“Aww, you’re all rosy,” Jongdae quips sweetly. He plucks a pink rose from his desk and lightly taps Kyungsoo’s nose with it. It’s very cute, and makes Kyungsoo even more flustered. The tattooist melts, “All blushed. So cute.” 

Kyungsoo’s stomach turns at the close gestures. They don’t know each other really well, and Kyungsoo has always been sensitive to touches – although, he’s not really sure how he’s still friends with Baekhyun because of this. Nonetheless, Jongdae is friendly, softer spoken than Baekhyun, but it doesn’t make it any easier for Kyungsoo to speak. He still rattles in thought, over-thinking his responses to fit in with this stranger and not make a wrong move. It’s ingrained in his system. 

Jongdae retracts the rose, and proceeds to knock the vase over on his desk. Thankfully, Kyungsoo snaps out of it before the vase can drop, effectively catching it. Jongdae breathes a sigh a of relief and chuckles endearingly, now blushed as well. “Sorry, I’m a little clumsy.” 

Kyungsoo gives Jongdae a hard look, setting the vase back a little further away from Jongdae, and he tries to tease, much like he does with Chanyeol and Baekhyun. He comments a little harsher than he intends, “Not with your hands, I hope.” 

“Oh, never my hands,” Jongdae chuckles, and his voice is husky, which leads to an innuendo tucked away in Kyungsoo’s mind. It’s an unexpected surprise and it leaves the florist a little breathless when Jongdae continues to stare at Kyungsoo with half-lidded eyes. 

The bell up front chimes, signaling someone’s entrance, and it breaks the hot tension between the neighbors. A younger woman comes walking down the entrance with a bright smile and phone in her hands. Jongdae easily welcomes her, “Hi! How may I help you?” 

“I was wondering if I could get a tattoo?” the younger woman asks, flipping her dark hair back in a ponytail. She eyes the two behind the sketch table, and Jongdae instantly stands. 

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’m Jongdae, the tattooist,” he greets, stretching out his hand. The woman shakes it well, and Kyungsoo notices the beautiful hand-woven bracelets on her thin wrist. 

“I’m Andrea, pleasure to meet you,” she smiles with grace, hazel eyes quite captivating. She’s very pretty. “And you’re his partner…?”

“Ah, no,” Kyungsoo flatly denies, waving his hands in negative to not cause any confusion. A blush tickles his cheeks, as the word _partner_ gives him tingling sensations. 

Jongdae interjects when Kyungsoo doesn’t explain, “He’s a friend - the florist next door. He stopped by to accompany me.” 

“I’m Kyungsoo,” he quickly composes himself, shaking her hand. She doesn’t miss a beat, smiling again without an awkward touch. 

“So, what did you have in mind, Andrea?” Jongdae asks, pulling up a chair for the guest to sit in and explain her design. She pulls up her phone and sets it down onto the sketch desk. 

“I came back from a backpacking trip in Brazil, and I found this beautiful flower. I’m not sure of the name, so perhaps you could help?” Andrea peels her phone out to reveal a dashing flower, petals colored like bitten lips, stained with pinks and reds. The leaves are like a forest of washed out red, and it’s a little sinister in nature. 

“That looks like it belongs to the _Hibiscus_ family, but I’d have to go look at my references for the name,” Kyungsoo says, pouting his lips as he studies it. He remembers these flowers, and he knows that he’s getting some hibiscus from Africa next week. 

“I can use the picture as reference, but the real thing would help with the textures and be less animated, if that’s what you’d like?” Jongdae says, instantly writing down the clients specifications. 

“Yes, I’d love for it to be realistic,” Andrea says wistfully. “And colored too. I love the water colors here.” 

“It is a specialty of mine, among other things,” Jongdae grins playfully. Kyungsoo checks his phone for the shipments of flowers, hoping that a familiar name pops up. “Are we talking a big, blooming flower with a scatter of leaves, or a smaller scale?” 

“Something no bigger than my palm. I’m not looking for a big piece to heal,” she says, extending her palm. 

“And, the placement?” 

Andrea turns to reveal her back. She’s wearing a tank top that exposes her shoulder blades and tanned skin. “Either the shoulder blades, or the center of my upper back.” 

“May I?” Jongdae asks politely, snapping on a black glove, and Andrea allows him to touch. He examines the back of her neck and spine, and notes, “If we did the center of the back, I would be connecting with some of the spine, and that may be a little painful. Have you gotten a tattoo before?” 

“Just a small one on my wrist. Nothing like this,” Andrea says, facing them again. 

Jongdae nods. “I suggest we do a shoulder blade, unless you can endure the pain for the center back.” 

Andrea agrees, and Kyungsoo finally spots a familiar name and flower. He smiles, revealing the order. “ _Hibiscus Acetosella_ , the African rose. I’ve got a shipment of them coming in on Tuesday.” 

Jongdae grins, excited for the piece. Kyungsoo is proud that he was there to help. “Awesome. Is that alright with you? I could get a sketch done on Tuesday, and have you come back in on Wednesday?” 

“Definitely,” Andrea says, a happier smile planted on her face. She gives Jongdae her information and a down payment for the tattoo, and she’s off into the world. Jongdae is bouncing in his chair, excited for the new project. 

“This is going to be awesome. I love doing realism,” Jongdae smiles broadly, picking up his pencils and tapping them excitedly. “Thank you for your help, Kyungsoo. I really do appreciate it, you saved this piece. Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“It’s no problem, really,” Kyungsoo shrugs, even though he does feel a sense of accomplishment. He gets this giddy when he arranges a beautiful bouquet for a bride. It feels nice to revel in something new too. This collaboration makes Kyungsoo feel a little less tense, especially when Jongdae makes room for Kyungsoo, asking him about certain characteristics of the flower, it’s origin, among other things. The florist always felt more comfortable amongst the flowers than he did with people. 

Kyungsoo glances at his watch. “Oh, it’s late. Did you eat?” 

Jongdae looks at him sheepishly. “No, and wasn’t really planning on it. I need to finish this sketch for tomorrow.” 

Kyungsoo frowns. This simply won’t do. “You need to eat. Why don’t I order take out for here?” 

Jongdae blinks. “You’re going to eat with me?” 

Kyungsoo blushes, “Yeah, I can, sure. We both need to eat, might as well not be super losers and eat alone.” 

Jongdae laughs loudly, “Super losers? More like, independent and comfortable eating alone. I’m not a loser.” 

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything to it, not yet comfortable in retaliating more. He knows Jongdae likes to tease, but he doesn’t know Jongdae’s limits. He’s also still super nervous in front of his neighbor, and hasn’t pinned down the tatted guy yet. Baby steps. 

“So, the Godsend of mozzarella and garlic butter that is Jon’s Pizza, or chicken wings?” Kyungsoo offers, flipping at his phone automatically to the delivery service app. 

Jongdae smirks. “Why do I get the sense that I don’t have a choice?” 

“You do,” Kyungsoo cheekily says, automatically going to the pizza menu. “Just pick the right answer.” 

His grin goes wide, wider than Kyungsoo’s seen before. It looks like he’ll devour Kyungsoo whole, mischievous and blinding. “I miraculously have the craving for pizza.” 

-

It’s hard to not like Jongdae as a person. He’s a very considerate person, which makes it a little hard for Kyungsoo to pick up on Jongdae’s likes and dislikes naturally. Although, to be fair, Baekhyun and Chanyeol were the easiest to read from the get go. Jongdae doesn’t dodge things, but he’s very neutral whenever Kyungsoo listens to his conversations with clients. He gets along easily with people. There’s not one person that doesn’t like him from what Kyungsoo has heard through the neighborhood gossip with the exception of maybe Kyungsoo (but he doesn’t divulge that outright). 

And, it’s not as if Kyungsoo entirely dislikes him. It’s the tattoos that are just a little distracting, is all. They are beautiful from what Kyungsoo has seen. The sleeves have obvious Asian artistry. His right arm has a henna inspired ink in his inner forearm. It’s old, faded, but it still gives the natural feeling of the dark brown earth tones and intricate designs. In a similar earthy fashion, the outer sleeve is a path traveling through mountains. Kyungsoo spotted a stone Temple in faded red on his shoulder once when the tattooist sported a tank top. 

The other sleeve has a flowing river, a fairly newer design since the water colors have not faded. There’s a ship, a flowing koi fish, and pink petals gracing the water. A water snake crawls up his wrist, depicted in greens and yellows. The water snake and koi seem to dance around each other, ready to spar. The colors swirl within the rivers flow, and it almost looks like it moves when Jongdae flexes his arm or maneuvers it around a client. 

It isn’t until the warmer part of spring that Kyungsoo notices the other tattoos. Kyungsoo spends his lunch breaks at Jongdae’s tattoo shop, merely because Jongdae invited him several times to come over. He would whine and protest when the florist declined politely, and then eventually Kyungsoo couldn’t take it, simply placing his salads, his left over lasagna, his fried dumplings there for every lunch break. The florist also can’t resist the fluttering feeling he has when Jongdae smiles brightly upon his unannounced entrances. 

Jongdae is finishing a piece on a customer when Kyungsoo walks into the familiar white-walled shop with his leftover salad. Jongdae gives him a quick smile and continues to work. The buzzing is familiar to Kyungsoo now. Before, he was hesitant of the needles, but the buzzing now just drones like background noise after a month of hanging out. 

The client is then given instructions of how to clean their tattoo, and they are sent off. Jongdae cleans the space, sanitizing the chair and throwing away the needles in a sharps container. It’s long before the tattooist is bouncing down to the foyer and unpacking his own poorly made lunch. When he sits, his tight cargo shorts ride up just a tiny bit enough for Kyungsoo to spot an unnatural blue on the others quad. Kyungsoo deliberately stares, Jongdae’s voice now just background noise. 

“So, I was looking downtown and they were all sold out of the …” Jongdae pauses, and Kyungsoo finally blinks up at him. He’s got a puzzled look in his eyes, but his smile is still shy and cute. “Are you listening?” 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo swallows. “Just …”

He darts back down to Jongdae’s thighs and the colorful pop on his skin that he did not notice before. Jongdae starts to laugh, eyes instigating more, “Oh, what are you looking at?” 

“Ah, I-I –“ Kyungsoo stammers his way through it as Jongdae continues to laugh merrily. Red flushes Kyungsoo’s cheeks, and he tries his hardest to stare anywhere above Jongdae’s torso. He doesn’t even know why he’s so flustered – Jongdae didn’t even imply anything. “You’re – uh… shorts. The blue.” 

“Hmm?” Jongdae raises a brow and then pointedly stares at his own lap to check for the “blue”. He brushes off his shorts, and then it finally dawns on him. He broadens his smile. “Oh, yeah. I’ve got a thigh tattoo. You wanna see?” 

Kyungsoo agrees, simply thinking that Jongdae would show a picture of the tattoo in the precarious spot, but Jongdae always proves him wrong. The tattooist begins to roll his tight shorts up his thigh, only for Kyungsoo to unconsciously hold his breath. He struggles a little bit, especially since the shorts are so tight, but he manages to wiggle it up half-way to reveal a beautiful icy blue wolf head. It’s stunning to say the least. 

“Wow,” Kyungsoo admires honestly. The wolfs eyes sparkle in some way and seem to stare into the florist’s soul. “Is that new?” 

“Actually, I got this one last year. I showed it off last summer when I wore shorts, and it’s starting to get warm.” Jongdae admires the tattoo a little linger, his fingers tracing his inner thigh dangerously. Kyungsoo feels very hot all of a sudden. “The color still looks good on it, no?” 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says a little breathily. He snaps out of the trance and quickly turns back to his salad. He has to stop thinking about the tattoo and how the perfect canvas of his thick thigh has a masterpiece on it. 

Jongdae pulls his shorts back down and says nothing more about the wolf tattoo. They eat together, talking about some other mindless things. It’s their routine. It’s a simple one, and a lot cheaper. Jongdae favored the company and the motherly looks Kyungsoo would give when he had take out three days in a row. Sometimes they talk, but mostly it’s blissful silence in their crazy routines. Now that it’s spring, Kyungsoo has been working on more orders, including weddings, graduations, and showers. 

“I was thinking about getting another one,” Jongdae says, and he wipes his mouth of the tomato sauce from his sandwich. 

Kyungsoo blinks. “Tattoo?” 

“Yeah, to match the other thigh. It’s just kind of blank,” Jongdae hums around the chicken in his mouth and pats his left thigh. “I’ve asked some people around for ideas.” 

Kyungsoo frowns. Something irks him about that – Jongdae mindlessly asking around for tattoo ideas for the sake of a tattoo. 

Somehow, he thinks Jongdae senses the uneasiness and back pedals quickly. He stammers a little, “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. I wanted to get something to celebrate the new chapter in my life. Getting my own tattoo shop and moving away from home is a huge milestone. I want to remember the feeling.” 

Kyungsoo feels a little better with the explanation, but there’s still uneasiness around it. Jongdae continues to talk. He usually does this, somehow picking up the cues that Kyungsoo is still listening. “I just asked around the town of the people that know me best what they see in me. Chanyeol and Baekhyun both thought about stupid movie references and the café owner wanted the script of my order on here. Those are a little silly, but charming I suppose.” 

Jongdae smiles nicely at the thoughts, but Kyungsoo feels a little flustered. He knows Jongdae is going to ask him, and he doesn’t necessarily know what to say. He doesn’t want to say something that will be laughed at, but at the same time he doesn’t know Jongdae awfully well enough to give something special. 

“So, what do you think I should get?” 

Here it is, the dreaded bomb. 

Kyungsoo is left in some silence to collect the trash fire that is his brain. His eyes dart quickly across the foyer, trying desperately to find something – anything. His eyes settled on a bouquet up front, and the giant face of a sunflower peaks his interest. 

“A sunflower,” Kyungsoo says proudly. Jongdae nods neutrally, and Kyungsoo is in the clear –

“Why?” 

Oh no. 

“Uh,” Kyungsoo scratches the back of his neck in nerves, and it also give shim time to think of an answer. “Well, uh, I work with flowers. That’s all. It’d suit you.” 

Jongdae’s perfect little curled lip stays frozen, and Kyungsoo has noticed that as a different kind of smile. It’s curt, purposeful, like a shield. It’s not quite a genuine smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s only there for show while he internally feels differently. It doesn’t make Kyungsoo feel good. 

“Oh,” Jongdae says, and then plays around with a piece of chicken. Within a blink, Jongdae’s smile spreads into his eyes. “Thanks for the suggestion.” 

Kyungsoo nods, and they both continue to each their lunch in a comfortable silence before they have to return to work. 

-

Kyungsoo finally flops down on the table of the greenhouse when he finishes the last bouquet for the most expensive order this season yet. The bride was very particular about the orchids she wanted, asking for the very specific color of warm yellow with red centers, and nothing could change her mind. When shipments of the orchids came in from warehouses, she insisted on inspecting each one before her wedding planner finally stepped in and let Kyungsoo do his job. 

Well, 400 orchid centerpieces later for the extremely extravagant wedding, Kyungsoo is finally finished. He doesn’t even have to arrange them; the wedding planner already has a person from the venue hired to pick them up. It’s out of his hands and hair. 

_BBH: Drinks?_

Kyungsoo nods to his phone and finally makes a good decision. He knows Baekhyun would be proud. They haven’t gone out for drinks in a while, and Kyungsoo is just about down for anything after an exhausting month of planning this stuck up brides wedding. A night out wouldn’t kill him. 

On a spring night like this, he doesn’t need much to dress out for the town. There’s only two bars to choose from: the sports bar with college kids or the country club with older men. Kyungsoo, preferably, likes to stay away from the country club because they don’t take kindly to Baekhyun’s fashion choices or Chanyeol’s taste in fruity drinks. 

Kyungsoo slips on a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt and a leather jacket just to complete the dark look. He doesn’t do much else because he isn’t there to impress anyone, and his friends understand his basic style. 

With a town this cute and small, it’s fairly easy to navigate on foot. The bars are on opposite sides of the town, but only 5 blocks away from the center. Kyungsoo always meets Baekhyun and Chanyeol at the mini mart on the blocks corner. The wind swirls around him warmly, and he almost turns back to throw away his jacket, but he decides to press on. There, in the distance, he can see figures on the corner. However, in addition to Chanyeol’s tall form and Baekhyun’s skinny figure, there stands another skinny man that laughs a little loudly into the night. 

Lo and behold, it’s Jongdae with a grandiose smile, sleeveless shirt, and tight pants. He looks good. 

“You made it!” Chanyeol bounces, wrapping his arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulders. Jongdae still smiles widely, and Baekhyun uncharacteristically is impatient. Kyungsoo raises a brow to question –

“Baekhyun says we’re going to be late for half-price entrance,” Jongdae fills in the gap, and it feels so natural. Normally Chanyeol is on top of everything about Baekhyun, but Jongdae currently fills that spot with a smile and a natural ease into their hurried steps to the sports bar. He fits perfectly into their group, kindly talking Baekhyun into chilling out, along with making sure he actually has his wallet on him. “Let’s not make the princess wait!” 

Chanyeol still is Chanyeol, and he’s observant. He nudges Kyungsoo. “You alright? You’re so zoned out.” 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo replies, rustling his own hair. His eyes are glued to Baekhyun and Jongdae’s backs. They interact like they’ve been friends for years, and Jongdae easily slips his hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder to reel him back to reality. This only makes Kyungsoo zone into their space more. “I need a drink.” 

Chanyeol bellows a hearty laugh and slaps Kyungsoo’s back, “Yeah, me too bud. I saved those sweet, sweet calories so that I could drink tonight.” 

“That’s unhealthy, Chanyeol!” Jongdae calls from the front with teasing smile, but his tone is a mothers’. He’s not wrong. Usually Kyungsoo will put up the motherly front, but Jongdae fills that role too. Kyungsoo feels hot underneath the jacket all of a sudden, yet he has to live with this decision to put a jacket on in the spring. 

The sports bar has a DJ in tonight since it’s the off season, and it’s got a decent crowd on the main floor. Baekhyun orders a round of shots and two pitchers of beer, despite Chanyeol’s protests of the filling hopped drink. The night starts off mature and reasonable for Kyungsoo, but time moves differently when he’s amongst the encouraging calls of Baekhyun. He’s nearly 20 minutes into the bar scene, two pints and three shots in – two stolen from Chanyeol and Jongdae respectively. There’s a race in his mind when Baekhyun kindly winds up his hand for another round, and he cannot pass at the challenge. The shots are room temperature, not refreshing whatsoever, but they are smoother the faster they fall. 

Chanyeol’s legs accidentally knock into Kyungsoo’s underneath their scrawny table, and the florist groans at the boney jab. “We can’t be friends, you’re too big to sit at the table.” 

“Kyungsoo~” Chanyeol whines, face flushed from not eating beforehand. He wiggles his way closer and Kyungsoo tries to shove the other off. “You can’t replace me.” 

“Wanna bet?” The tip of Kyungsoo’s nose is tingling, the telltale sign of having a good time. He rubs it just to make sure it’s still there. 

“Jongdae is already encroaching on the territory,” Baekhyun beams next to Kyungsoo, pinching at the tattooist cheeks. The other coos too, slapping his hands away. “He’s our height.” 

Jongdae half-heartedly slaps the hand away, and Kyungsoo has some courage to speak. It’s definitely the liquor, “And he understands boundaries, you oaf.” 

While Chanyeol screeches on and on about his nickname, Kyungsoo shifts his gaze to Jongdae, who gives him an unreadable look. From Kyungsoo’s position, it’s somewhat simmering, hot and invigorating. He’s got the wicked look in his eyes and the daintiest smile. He’s very handsome under this dim light, Kyungsoo can’t deny it. It makes Kyungsoo blush hard. 

Kyungsoo feels his arm being dragged in the opposite direction, and a quick _let’s go dance_ , before he’s pulled out into the crowd. Baekhyun swings him around, and soon they are grooving to the latest hits. Baekhyun loves to dance when he’s got drinks in him, and Kyungsoo and Chanyeol have always been his dance partners since the dawn of time. Kyungsoo only obliges because he doesn’t want to hear the whines, but the music does flow in him when he’s looser. There’s something about tequila and dancing that go hand in hand. 

A quick peek over at the table, and Chanyeol is making love-eyes to the loaded nachos Baekhyun bought seconds before they went out to dance. Jongdae sits with a bemused smirk on his face as he teases Chanyeol. He picks up a pipping hot black tortilla chip, smoldered with cheesy goodness, toppings nearly falling off. Kyungsoo can’t look away as he watches as the tattooist opens his mouth wide. His tongue licking at the gooey cheese just before smashing the salty snack into his mouth. There’s an innocent smile on his face when he wipes the tiniest smear of sour cream off his lip, and he cackles at Chanyeol’s dissatisfied slump. 

Kyungsoo has been holding his breath, and he nearly chokes and dies when Jongdae locks onto him and gives his quick wink. Kyungsoo feels warm all over, and somewhere in his swirling brain, he knows he’s in trouble. 

“Jongdae’s awesome,” Baekhyun grins, pulling Kyungsoo closer to dance. He’s been swinging his hips for the last God-knows-how-long, and Baekhyun doesn’t look like he’s stopping any time soon. “I think he fits right in.” 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says shakily. “You’ve been hanging out with him a lot at your place?” 

Baekhyun spins him around and waits for his head to stop spinning before he finally gets it. Baekhyun scrunches up his face like he’s eaten something rotten and spits out, “Ew, Kyungsoo, no. That’s gross.” 

“I-I wasn’t insinuating –“

Baekhyun groans and shuts his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t fuck friends.” 

Then notices Baekhyun’s attention gazed on a young group of college kids. He’s set his sights on them, and Kyungsoo knows there’s no point in stopping the extrovert. He’s worn his best, dressed in tight clothing and just a bit of sweaty hair to add to his illusion. Really, deep down, he’s just a playful shy boy. Alcohol brings out his adventurous side. 

“Go get ‘em tiger. Go,” Kyungsoo says with a gentle laugh bubbling between his lips, and Baekhyun can’t help himself. Kyungsoo pushes his friend off, laughing hysterically when Baekhyun trips into a boys lap, and they blush uncontrollably. 

“Heyyyyy.” Kyungsoo feels a poke at his cheek and turns to find Chanyeol on wobbly legs trying to sway with the other. “Dance with me.” 

He’s double fisting plastic liquor cups and swaying to music off beat, but he still looks kind of cute. Kyungsoo obliges, only because Chanyeol would constantly whine all night if he didn’t. He knows Drunk Chanyeol like that, but he doesn’t know if he’s drunk enough to let loose. 

“I need a drink though,” Kyungsoo hiccups, and hits the edge of the bar. He orders a whiskey sour fast and downs it within the minute of receiving it from the bartender. He got a few questionable looks, and an immediate bright laugh to his left. 

“Damn. Going hard tonight?” Jongdae laughs, and his mouth is so close to his ear, he can feel his breath. 

“I’m not drunk enough to dance with Chanyeol,” he murmurs, already feeling the tingles of the drink as he orders another sour. 

Jongdae smiles brightly. “Fair enough.” 

The rest of the night is fun, despite it being hotter than hell and getting packed as the night goes on. Kyungsoo remembers waddling into the dance floor and busting the most incredible moves (ie. _Dad moves_ ). Chanyeol probably jumped a lot, and Jongdae made his way into their circle and danced just as embarrassingly as the rest of them. It was fun to be in this haze. Even though Kyungsoo doesn’t remember much of the dancing, he does remember clinging onto Jongdae after he lost his balance, and the other just smiled without a care in the world. 

When it’s time to go home, Kyungsoo feels himself starting to remember bits. He remembers walking in the cold and holding onto Chanyeol and Jongdae for support. He remembers dropping Chanyeol off and then having a strong-arm underneath him as the neighbors stumble down a couple more blocks to their building. He remembers the wind whipping at his face and Jongdae’s laugh cutting through the wind. 

By the grace of God, they make it up the flight of stairs to their hallway. Jongdae’s half is on the left, Kyungsoo’s on the right, but Kyungsoo can barely keep his eyes open to know which way is which. He slumps against the wall and lets out a frustrated noise. 

Jongdae instantly comes to his side and provides aid. “Kyungsoo, where’s your keys?” 

He probably repeats it a couple of times before Kyungsoo groans, “I don’t know.” 

“You had them on you before we left the bar. Probably still on you,” he says, and then proceeds to pat down Kyungsoo’s pockets. Kyungsoo doesn’t know why, but he feels like he’s grinning when Jongdae pats at his pants pockets. 

The tell-tale sign of jingling is like a faint memory, and somehow Kyungsoo finally wakes in the morning on the couch. His head pounds like crazy, and his vision is like a cloud. He can barely lift his head, but his hand carelessly searches around the side tables for his glasses. Instead, he knocks into a cup of water, instantly scrambling before the liquid pours out. 

When he finally is able to see, his heart flutters at the kind message scrawled on paper underneath the water cup. 

_Good morning, ^^ Please drink water and take a pain killer. Had a lot of fun last night, especially with your special moves. See you soon, neighbor! -JD_

-

Something has been irking Kyungsoo from Day One. 

“Cat or dog person?” 

“I can’t choose,” Jongdae automatically blurts, and Kyungsoo shakes his head. 

“Come on.” 

Jongdae whines, “Kyungsoo, I don’t want you to judge me for my choices.” 

Kyungsoo hardens. There it is. Jongdae is so favorable because he is middle-road with everything. He agrees too much, and he smiles prettily way too often for Kyungsoo. 

Jongdae goes silent, and his smile feels stale as it winds down into a contemplative pout. Kyungsoo resumes eating his lunch, though the questions still eat at him. 

“Cats.” 

Kyungsoo slurps a noodle and hums, “Why?” 

“Financially, a better investment. Cats live independently, don’t need a walk, perfectly happy with a litter box and a cuddle on occasion. All you have to do is feed them. Dogs are needy.” Jongdae rips off his greasy pizza crust and stuffs it into his mouth. “Need I say more?” 

Kyungsoo continues to eat his lunch until more starts to pop up. 

“What kind of music do you listen to?” 

Jongdae pauses again, ready to say the safe answer, but Kyungsoo won’t have it. The tattooist finally opens up, “Currently, I’ve got an obsession with underground rap artists from Japan, but American funk will always be my go-to.” 

“Favorite color and why?” 

“Baby blue – it reminds me of Donghae where my brother got married. You?” 

Kyungsoo finally feels a smile. “Black. It’s practical.” 

“That suits you.” Jongdae finishes his greasy pizza, sucking off the oil from each digit. He’s perfectly content, and something amuses him because he’s got his mouth stuck in a curl. He observes Kyungsoo, crossing his tatted arms. They form a mismatch of styles, but elegantly tell his story. “What’s your greatest fear?” 

Kyungsoo pokes around his food again. He didn’t intend for things to get personal – not that favorite colors and animals weren’t personal, just not as deep. It’s kind of nice to have intelligent conversations once in a while, but Kyungsoo is wary at Jongdae’s braveness. Though, he supposes he brought this onto himself. He wanted the truth from Jongdae, after all. 

“Not being happy in the end. That all of my work was for nothing. Yours?” 

Kyungsoo peeks up from his lunch and sees Jongdae’s determined face. The smile is wiped clean off his rosy lips. Kyungsoo sees the sadness through his eyes and the artwork on his body. 

“Disappointment.” 

-

“Have a good day!” Kyungsoo barely scrambles out as his latest customers from the alumni center of the community college a few towns over leave out the door. Kyungsoo shuffles the papers for the orange carnation order and runs fingers through his sweaty hair. This time of year is busy – spring into summer is the perfect temperatures for plant growth and special occasions – a combination that doesn’t bode well for Kyungsoo’s stress levels. Orders on top of orders doesn’t deter him though. It makes him work under the pressure and leaves him accomplished at the end of the season. 

With a forced sigh, he adjusts his body to the chaotic mess of his life once again and takes the initiative to actually take a break with a lull in the time. Otherwise, he would have his mind filled with poppy’s and orchids. 

He promptly walks out into the warm glow on the evening, turning a sign over for closing, and heads into the neighbors shop. Even before Kyungsoo walks in, he can hear the tell-tale sign of the buzzing tattoo needles. Not so familiar is the smell of incense, orange blossom and a honeysuckle by the written label of the incense jar near the front. Jongdae wears a snapback over his locks and black gloves over his hands as he hunches over a man who lays on his stomach. Jongdae is focused, dipping into his color and transferring it onto the pale skin of the mans back. The canvas already has several tattoos laid out, and most of them are muted blacks and blues. 

The straight lines that Jongdae presses into the mans skin are without fault, complete and full. The tattooist easily wipes away the blood that bubbles to the surface and continues with the lining of the portrait. Kyungsoo does not want to disturb the progress, instead choosing to sit down in the waiting area with his dinner. 

Kyungsoo unwraps his sandwich and quietly eats in the company of the buzzing needles. His eyes wander to the new flower décor and wall art – most of which are framed floral tattoos. Jongdae has dozens of roses scattered throughout the store, it’s like a rainbow of color. At the time, Kyungsoo was mildly peeved that his neighbor bought out a weeks’ worth of blooming roses, but he no longer can hold the grudge, especially not when they fit so well in the tattooist shop. 

_September_ has been slowly gaining a social media following. The town is picking up on Jongdae’s success as well. They just published an article about his business in the local paper and it made the front page. The photo they included is somewhat cheesy – Jongdae looking soft with a grin covering half his face, standing in front of _September_. Subsequently, the photo also captures Kyungsoo’s tiny floral shop with the prettiest daisies. 

Kyungsoo remembers when Jongdae screeched with the paper in his hands, gushing about the article and how nice the reporter was. When Kyungsoo scanned the article, he nearly fainted. 

( _“You said that the neighboring flower shop owner is a part of your inspiration???”_

_  
_

_“Well, yeah, duh. You pick the prettiest flowers, Kyungsoo.”_ ) 

Kyungsoo kept the article, but only because he liked the daisies in front of the shop. 

“- break?” the buzzing stops, but leaves a ringing in Kyungsoo’s ears. “Oh, hey Kyungsoo! Didn’t hear you come in.” 

Jongdae’s smile is wide as he greets, and Kyungsoo merely nods bashfully. 

“I didn’t want to disturb your work.” 

Jongdae scoffs, but then waves Kyungsoo over. Magically, the florist agrees and his feet pull automatically to the tattooist. 

“I want you to meet someone,” Jongdae starts, releasing his hands from the black gloves and adjusting his backwards snapback. “This is Sehun.” 

The man relaxed on his stomach turns his head to the side to face Kyungsoo. He’s young, and his face is stoic in the chair despite having needles in his back nearly moments ago. He gives a simple nod to Kyungsoo and a peace sign. 

“Sup.” 

Kyungsoo is a little perplexed by the informalities, but Jongdae laughs anyway, slapping Sehun’s arm at the impoliteness. The other whines lowly and groans. He reaches out his hand, and Kyungsoo easily takes it in a shake. 

“Hi. I’m Sehun, this clowns friend,” Sehun mutters, and Jongdae still laughs at it brightly. He gets up to wash his hands, briefly departing from the first meeting. 

“I’m Kyungsoo. I’m Jongdae’s neighbor, it’s nice to meet you,” Kyungsoo says nicely, and the tattooed man snickers, his chest wriggling in the chair. 

“Oh, so _you’re_ the florist Dae’s been gushing on about.” Sehun tilts his head up and squints his eyes. “Ah, that makes sense.” 

Kyungsoo frowns. “What?” 

Sehun smirks, “You’re totally his –“

The radio suddenly blasts through the speakers of the portable radio, crackling slightly by the jarring sound. Kyungsoo picks his head up to see Jongdae rocking to the upbeat song while the drums smack Kyungsoo in the face. 

“Sehunnie, this is _our jam_! Remember?” Jongdae comes sliding down the foyer with his body taken over by wiggles that could be considered dancing. It’s weirdly charming, especially when Jongdae just doesn’t care with a grin. When Sehun wiggles his fingers in their own dance, Kyungsoo knows that they’ve both have lost it. 

When Jongdae catches Kyungsoo’s confused face, the others smile doesn’t falter. “Sehun is from back home. I’ve done every tattoo he has. It’s ‘cause I’ve got the most talented hands on Earth.” 

Sehun snorts at the comment, “And the clumsiest feet.” 

“Brat,” Jongdae bites playfully. He pinches at Sehun’s shoulder and gestures for him to stand. “Now, go upstairs. I’m tired. We’ll finish it tomorrow.” 

“Fine.” 

As Sehun stands, Kyungsoo can’t help but graze his eyes against the youngers body. He’s thin and built, and he stands nearly a head taller than the florist. His back is a giant canvas and it bleeds up and over his shoulders. There’s a prominent weeping willow as the centerpiece, the trunk of the tree sitting on his spine. The knots on the tree are spiraled and tied in knots, very similar to rope knots. The dangling limbs of the tree sweeps over the upper part of his backs, and the leaves are tear drops dripping down into the new piece – the pooling water that Kyungsoo had seen weeks ago. The sketches on his back feel very raw and too emotional for Kyungsoo to even understand, but he knows that there’s something behind it. 

Sehun trots up to the apartment upstairs and leaves Jongdae to clean. Kyungsoo decides to help silently, sweeping the floor. 

“So, Sehun is a high school friend or …?” 

“No, not really,” Jongdae says as he cleans his station, making sure to put the used needles in a sharps container. “He followed my tattoo career. I started when I was sixteen – doing small stuff out of the garage. He let me practice on him a lot.” 

Kyungsoo winces, “That must’ve hurt.” 

Jongdae swallows in some silence, and Kyungsoo momentarily thinks he must have hit a nerve. He’s got an apology on his tongue when Jongdae speaks again with a strained smile. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was in a bad spot. He needed a distraction.” 

Kyungsoo pauses as the sadness sinks in. Curiosity strikes in the most horrible ways, and Kyungsoo feels desperate to know. He doesn’t have the right words for it though. 

“He followed me wherever I had a popup shop. Once I got professional tools, he wanted me to do a big piece – the weeping willow. It took me months to complete it, but he never complained. He had complete faith in me, even back when I was a rookie, even when I messed up.” Jongdae has a reminiscing twinkle in his eyes and small smile on his lips. “That’s I want to do here. I want to build trust and make a name for myself. I want this to be my home.” 

Jongdae looks so bright here, hopeful and optimistic. Kyungsoo wishes he had a camera to capture it. Jongdae looks like a beautiful sunflower, bursting with brightness up to the sun above. 

Kyungsoo admires the ambition and secretly wishes he could be so outwardly passionate like Jongdae. But, he figures that his time will come. Perhaps Jongdae’s optimism will rub off on him. 

-

The months to come, spring into summer and summer into autumn, bring the mystery together. Lunches are inclusive and bring just a little light to their deprived lives. Kyungsoo actually enjoys it, and can finally stomach the tattooed skin just like regular skin. Skin doesn’t matter as much as the person inside, Kyungsoo has come to find out. 

He likes Jongdae. He really does. There’s something about him that Kyungsoo feels connected to. He hides just as much as Kyungsoo does. He’s an outsider coming in, just as Kyungsoo had. He’s got something to bring to this world, an art that most would only snort at, just as Kyungsoo does. They really do have much more in common than originally thought out to be. 

It’s during the fall time where Kyungsoo finds that he has a lot in common with Jongdae, more than he’s ever thought. Kyungsoo is preparing an autumn spread for a culinary event in the city. The orange and browns bleed together, and the arrangements remind him of home when he would help his mother set the table for Chuseok. Their Korean neighborhood would gather around at their house and celebrate the harvest festival with food and drink. His mother let him arrange the decorations with his older brother. Seungsoo would always fall back asleep, but Kyungsoo loved decorating the entire house. 

Kyungsoo grimaces. He left the neighborhood on some bad terms. He calls his mom occasionally, but he hasn’t spoken to his father since he dropped out of college and ran off to make his own business. He remembers hastily packing his bags after a drunk night of screaming and crying right after the final day of Chuseok. He’s never celebrated it since. 

The orange mums twirl in his hands as if in a dance. Kyungsoo twirls them mindlessly as he reminisces on the memories. It hurts a little, especially since the holiday is so near. 

The chime of the door opening pulls him out of his thoughts, and he straightens himself up from the counter. His eyes immediately catch Jongdae’s sunny smile from across the aisles of wicker baskets and cinnamon brooms. 

“How’s it _growing, bud_?” 

“You’re late to the game. Chanyeol already made that joke months ago.” 

Jongdae pouts, “Aww. I’m just _pollen_ your leg.” 

“Please shut up,” Kyungsoo groans as he grooms the sage bushes. 

“Fine. Here, I thought I would bring us lunch.” Jongdae sets down a plastic bag behind the counter and fiddles with the packaging. It looks a little crushed on the sides, but otherwise intact. He beams. “I made it.” 

“Oh? Thanks for the warning,” Kyungsoo deadpans, and then he immediately hears the retaliating whine of : _“I swear it’s good_!”

Kyungsoo opens the package carefully and is surprised to see something familiar. Crescent moon shaped rice balls are inside, along with a marinated chicken and rice with vegetables. Kyungsoo is a little skeptical, especially when the rice balls burst with a sweetness that reminds him of home. 

“You made this?” 

Jongdae nods dutifully and pops a rice ball into his mouth. “Yup – well, uh, not the chicken – that’s store-bought. I made the rice cakes - _Songpyeon_. My mom taught me how to make them, and you said you were Korean, so I thought I might do something traditional. Plus, it’s almost Chuseok.” 

Kyungsoo swallows a little hard, but the flavor still makes him smile. Jongdae and Kyungsoo eat together well, occasionally pausing for conversation. Jongdae mentioned before about being Korean-American, 1st generation, and Kyungsoo also revealed his Korean heritage, but nothing more than that. Family relations were never really brought up again. 

“My mom is coming down for a dinner, but I think the shop can survive.” Jongdae happily munches around his meal. “What about you? Are you going home for holiday?” 

“I don’t think so,” Kyungsoo says softly, not very regrettably though. He can see Jongdae’s eyes widening slightly, but Kyungsoo just fills his mouth with more rice cakes and without explanation. He shrugs, disinterested. 

“Are you okay with that?” 

The tattooist is leaned in, hands almost scrambled across the table to touch with comfort. Concern doesn’t sit well on Jongdae’s face, Kyungsoo thinks, because it looks heartbreaking. 

“It’s been like that for years. I don’t mind.” He does. Yes, he most certainly does, otherwise he wouldn’t be bringing it up. 

The awkwardness doesn’t dissipate, just as Kyungsoo predicted. When he’s briefly told Chanyeol and Baekhyun about his situation with his family, they nodded and accepted it awkwardly without discussion. They both didn’t fully understand, neither of them close to their heritage at all. They’re fully Americanized and don’t have the pressures of being close with their families. 

Jongdae nods and leans back in his chair. He says softly, “I get it.” 

Kyungsoo frowns with a hardened stare, and Jongdae quickly picks his pace up. “I do. I’m not just saying that. I don’t have the best relationship with my family either.” 

Jongdae plucks a tiger lily, one that’s bursting with orange hues and freckled spots, and twirls it in between his fingers. His mouth curls disdainfully. “Dad fucked off somewhere down south when I was a kid. I lived with my mom and my grandmother since then, and now I’m on my own.” 

Kyungsoo supposes that the offer of information was supposed to make him feel better, to be included in the broken Korean-American family, but it doesn’t. Not when he was the one to break them. 

“Look, I’m not trying to make a contest of whose got it worse,” Jongdae sighs and runs his fingers through hair, disheveling it. His foot is tapping nervously, and Kyungsoo can tell that he’s trying. It’s more than most, actually. “I’m just saying that I get it.” 

Kyungsoo gives a tiny smile with that realization. Jongdae and him are alike, both boys stuck between being their own person and the traditions of their heritage. They come from homes that are dysfunctional and made something for themselves. 

“Are you close with your mom?” he finds himself asking suddenly, a completely different shift of pace. Jongdae endures it well and gives a closed smile. 

“She’s my rock,” he grins and places a hand on his chest, right below his collarbone. “My first tattoo was for her. It’s an elephant, her favorite animal.” Jongdae chuckles. “She’s not like an elephant though. More like a rabbit – always on the go. She wants to be the elephant, if that makes sense?” 

_Kind. Familial. Patient._

Kyungsoo nods, understanding. He wishes his life was under different circumstances. Or, maybe not. If it was different, he would have never moved to this little town and met Chanyeol and Baekhyun ( _and Jongdae_ , a whisper in the back of his head). 

“Did she like your career choice?” 

“Does any parent?” Jongdae laughs, and Kyungsoo feels a familiar bubble of laughter. It’s painfully true for the both of them. “She was always supportive of the arts. Actually, my grandmother liked the tattoos more than my mom. She saw the joy I gave to people when I sketched art onto them. She says that I’ve got a gift that I need to share to the world, and off I went.” 

Kyungsoo thinks back to Sehun, the man with the building piece on his back. It’s beautiful. Jongdae made that with his hands, dug every line and filled every shade with Sehun’s story. The florist feels himself opening up before his reflexes catch up to him. “Yeah, you really do have something.” 

“Thanks,” Jongdae chirps as he steals a rice cake. “How about your parents? Did they expect you to open a floral shop?” 

The way that Jongdae leans in, creating a safe little space for Kyungsoo’s words to pass makes Kyungsoo’s heart flutter suddenly. It’s a nice gesture. 

“Yeah, definitely not,” Kyungsoo laughs a little sadly. He hasn’t really brought it up before. “They pushed me for business school, and I did that for 4 years. When I told them that I wanted my own flower shop, they told me to do something that would provide for a family.” 

_And to be less feminine_ , but Kyungsoo doesn’t want to delve that deep. 

“I think what you do is amazing,” Jongdae compliments. With the way his eyes are shining, it makes Kyungsoo feel at ease. “You read people well and you create physical art for them that sets a tone for an important part of their lives. You dive beyond their personal tastes and into what they need. It’s a crazy move financially – you run the risk of pissing someone off, but you pull it off. You’re amazing.” 

Kyungsoo blushes at the lavish compliments. All the words that Jongdae said could be reverberated back and be his story as well. The tattooist does the same. “You’re also like that with your clients. They may have tattoos already, but you explore deeper than what’s on their skin.” 

Kyungsoo looks to Jongdae’s tattoos, the colorful skin in tantalizing patterns looking so perfect on him. Kyungsoo knows the prejudice in his heart is something he’s had for a while. He undoubtedly judged Jongdae – the world – for an art that never really interested him because of horror stories. But now, up close and personal, he sees beauty underneath the skin. Jongdae has a special soul inside him, one that Kyungsoo feels comfortable around. 

Shit. 

He really likes Jongdae. 

“I guess you and are aren’t so different,” Jongdae says with a soft smile. His eyes are simmering with something that Kyungsoo can’t describe, lingering over Kyungsoo’s face. The tattooist leans in, arm over the counter, hovering over the florist. Kyungsoo is frozen, waiting for the inevitable rush of warmth – 

_Crash!_

The bashful rosy peonies are scattered on the floor in a pool of water and clear glass. Jongdae straightens immediately with his eyes closed in a concentrated anger at his own clumsiness. He sighs long, “I’ll get the broom.” 

-

Late one night, as Kyungsoo is sweeping up the shop, he hears a commotion. Normally, Jongdae turns the music down as the sun sets in order to set in the night life’s routine, but the commotion doesn’t sound like music. It’s a mans voice, and it shouts belligerently. 

Kyungsoo sets his broom aside to inspect, and the scene is cruel. It gets louder as Kyungsoo approaches, and he finally watches from the outside in horror. 

A man, very burly and stumbling a little drunkenly is red in the face with anger on his tongue. Jongdae stands at the end of the shop, mostly standing his ground as the man shouts. The tattooist doesn’t look harmed in the least, but the casualness doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right. 

“I want a fucking tattoo. I’ve got the money. Fucking put it on me _now_.”

Kyungsoo then sees a pack of other men in the corner snickering. They too have an alcoholic glow to them that doesn’t sit well with Kyungsoo. They flash cash and spill it on the floor. 

“He’s a paying customer, so what’s the problem?” 

Jongdae stands his ground. He shakes his head, puffing out his chest a little and crossing his arms. His biceps stand out and the other men take it as a challenge. 

“I’m not going to tattoo a drunk that’s going to regret in the morning.” He sounds strong, but it also sounds like he’s done this before. He squints at the stumbling drunk. “You really want a jizzing dick on your arm? I’m sure your girlfriend would like that.” 

“What did you say to me?” He sloshes and steps forward dangerously. His buddies rally him on with whistles and cheers, and soon enough he smacks a vase full of peonies onto the floor. The glass explodes, scattering pieces everywhere. He goes for more destruction, tearing down a painting next. Jongdae is a little stunned by the violence, frozen in place and not amused in the slightest, but his eyes go wide at his next words. 

“Do it, fag.” 

“Hey!” Kyungsoo finally steps in, courage racing in his veins. The men all turn with surprise, except for the raging one. He just starts to laugh. Kyungsoo pulls out his phone. “Get out of here. I’m gonna call the cops.” 

“Shit,” he groans, and they all stumble out of the tattoo shop with their tails between their legs. They laugh into the night with mischief in their wake. 

Meanwhile, Jongdae just helplessly stares at the floor of his tattoo shop, flowers and glass spread across the floor. He’s silent, clearly a little shaken by the sudden destruction. Kyungsoo runs over to his own shop, picks his broom and dust pan back up and begins to clean the floors. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Jongdae says a little sadly. Kyungsoo hasn’t seen him this devoid of a smile. It doesn’t suit him. It shouldn’t suit him. 

“I’m only trying to help,” Kyungsoo shrugs, the glass crunching against the floor. “We’ll just clean and forget these assholes. Then we can go get a drink or something. Yeah? Sound like a plan?” 

“Yeah,” Jongdae swallows, taking out his own broom from the closet in back. Glass scrapes the polished wooden floors, etching tiny nicks into the floor. The peonies are ruined, pink petals slashed and crumpled. There’s nothing more that they can do, other than just lay there and look pretty against the destruction. 

It takes them an hour to get the place cleaned up and the trash carefully thrown away. Jongdae looks devastated, and Kyungsoo feels for him. The florist coaxes the other upstairs and into his apartment for some company. At least they can stay together over some dinner. Kyungsoo makes something quick, some packaged ramen from the convenience store and they eat in the silence. 

It’s awkward and chilling, and Kyungsoo hopes he isn’t the only one that thinks that. When he gets this way, he usually pops open a drink and lets his nerves drown in the refreshing taste. He goes up to grab some coolers in the fridge, one for each of them, and then offers Jongdae one. 

The tattooist instantly shakes his head and states, “I don’t drink.” 

Kyungsoo retracts hesitantly. “But, you drank at the bar, didn’t you?” 

Jongdae shakes his head again, slower this time, and sighs with regret. He looks like he’s contemplating something with his lips sucked in and a concentrated stare at the daffodils on the coffee table. “Can I tell you something?” 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo breathes. 

Jongdae’s fingers snag his wallet out of his pocket and he fishes something out. Between his fingers is a small coin, more like a poker chip with a purple color to it. 

“Do you know what this is?” Jongdae asks as he reveals the chip. It’s not a poker chip, at least one that Kyungsoo hasn’t seen before. Kyungsoo squints at it, but ultimately shakes his head. “It’s a sobriety chip. 9 months clean.” 

“Oh,” Kyungsoo breathes out. He looks at the cooler in his hands with wide eyes. “Oh. Oh God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know –“

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s not like I’m going to crazy every time I see a drink,” Jongdae makes an easy, breathy laugh. His smile is small, still genuine. He pockets the coin and returns to his relaxed position. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t really know what to do with his hands (or his drink, for that matter), and sits poised, still awkward. 

“You can drink, it’s okay. Don’t let me stop you,” Jongdae reassures, gesturing to the cooler that sits untouched on the coffee table. Kyungsoo hesitantly lifts it to his lips, and the taste is somewhat sour. 

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” Kyungsoo mutters. 

Jongdae shrugs. “People assume things about me all the time, especially since I’m covered in tattoos. They think I’m a thug or I’m into drugs, but they don’t really know me.” 

“Does everyone know? Chanyeol and Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo swallows. He still feels guilty about the whole situation. He knows that those two friends in particular drink a lot, and they were at the bar with Jongdae too. Perhaps they’re that close to know. 

Jongdae grimaces. “No, I don’t really openly share that.” 

Kyungsoo hums with that information, accepting it at it’s value. Jongdae gave Kyungsoo something that’s really personal to him, and Kyungsoo will do everything to keep it safe. 

Minutes go by with some chatter, but mostly silence. It’s odd to not have the room filled with Jongdae’s laughter or Kyungsoo’s sighs. The night proved to be something of a challenge for the neighbors, something that they need to move on from. 

“So, those guys down there were real assholes, huh?” Kyungsoo sips the rest of his cooler and hands Jongdae some water. 

“They were pretty drunk. I never tattoo anyone who’s drunk or high.” Jongdae sighs, “I get it. It’s impulsive, and they probably would never have the balls to do it while sober, but that’s not the point of having tattoos.” 

Kyungsoo hums in acknowledgement. “It just means that you’ve got a good conscience. You could have easily taken advantage of them, took all their money or give them a shitty tattoo, or whatever. But you didn’t.” 

“Could you imagine? I totally could have put a nice rainbow cock on his arm,” Jongdae laughs brightly, and then simmers into a warm smile. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

Kyungsoo’s heart pounds hard in his chest. He knows that he’s tipsy from three coolers now, and Jongdae looks so nice here. The florist doesn’t want to take advantage of the situation here when they’re most vulnerable. He really doesn’t even know if the other likes him other than platonically (though, he notices that Jongdae talks way too comfortably about dicks with Baekhyun for straight man). He doesn’t want to push it. 

He bids Jongdae a good night and shuts away the fluttering feeling in his chest when Jongdae pinches at his shoulder. 

-

“There. Move the lattice up a little more and we should be good.” 

Kyungsoo drags his sleeve across his forehead to catch the collected sweat. He takes a couple steps back in the event hall to admire the four-hour setup for a bridal reception. It’s marvelous – the lavender accent pieces are just the burst of color that the pale setup needed. The lattice winds with ivy and spritz of yellow primroses. A helper moves the nearest centerpiece of warmer carnations to the left, and everything falls into place. 

“Oh, it’s absolutely beautiful,” there’s a gasp behind Kyungsoo, and it’s the mother of the bride on the brink of tears. Kyungsoo gently rubs her back for comfort, and she politely asks for a hug of gratitude. Kyungsoo obliges and lets out a sigh of relief. His work here is done. 

The drive home is exhausting, about 2 hours away. As Kyungsoo drives on, the street lights on the freeway get boring. The afternoon turns into night quickly, and he’s left in the dark with the other cars trying to get home. He has to keep the air on blast just to stay awake. 

Once he pulls onto his street in front of his shop, everything is dark except for the light in Jongdae’s apartment. He’s nearly an hour late for the dinner Jongdae asked him to, and he feels that terrible pit in his stomach. Missed dinners felt like missed connections to them, even though they live so close. 

As Kyungsoo locks up his car, he can hear a stumble of feet down the stairs of the apartment, and soon Jongdae’s bursting out the door. He’s got a worried look that makes Kyungsoo shrivel at. 

“Hey! Welcome back,” Jongdae grins not a beat later. He’s slipping an arm through a sleeve of his leather jacket. “You up for dinner?” 

Kyungsoo blinks slowly, tired eyes trying to blink awake. Jongdae’s dressed pretty nicely and Kyungsoo has his professional button down on, so there’s no issue with attire. Kyungsoo hasn’t eaten since breakfast, which was a shitty latte from a coffee house east from here. Jongdae also has that brilliant smile on his face that makes Kyungsoo’s heart beat slightly faster. He supposes that could get his tired mind through a dinner. 

He agrees, and Jongdae is instantly pulling him down the street with a giddy laugh. Kyungsoo follows and his feet don’t feel like lead blocks – mostly because Jongdae is dragging him along anyway. Jongdae easily wraps his arms around Kyungsoo’s frame and pushes him further down the blocks. The night is very brisk, the wind picking up on the chillier October nights. Kyungsoo shivers a little under the frigid air and involuntarily winds himself closer to Jongdae. 

The tattooist brings him to the café which twinkles with yellow lights and warm glow from inside. Jongdae shakes off his leather jacket and they are seated in a familiar booth. This booth holds different upholstery, but it still holds the memory of fresh-faced Kyungsoo who just recently moved to Northoak. 

“Ah, Jongdae. The usual?” 

“Not today. We need real meals,” Jongdae laughs as Minseok raises his brow. “Breakfast for dinner, it is. Eggs over easy, bacon and toast, and side of cheese please. Kyungsoo?” 

“Just sunny side eggs.” 

Jongdae gapes at him, Minseok gives him a questioning stare, and Kyungsoo blinks. “What?” 

“You haven’t eaten all day –“

“I’m fine.” Kyungsoo states, but Jongdae is already whispering something to Minseok. The florist grumbles as the owner takes away the menus. Jongdae still looks sunny as ever. “Really, I’m okay.” 

“If you say so.” Jongdae fiddles with the sugar packets on the side of the table. “How was the reception today? You just got back.” 

Kyungsoo sighs while adjusting the collar of his checkered button down. “Yeah, it when fine. It took forever since the staff showed up late. I had to have the furniture movers help me out. First, we couldn’t find the ladder, so I had to have someone standing on another guys shoulders to -”

“Wait, what. They actually did that?” Jongdae starts to cackle, and it feeds Kyungsoo. 

“Yeah, really! I thought I was going to have a lawsuit on my hands …”

The night feeds Kyungsoo well. He’s joyous and filled with pride. He makes Jongdae laughs until he cries, and subsequently, Kyungsoo is reduced to uncontrollable giggles when Jongdae knocks the salt all over the table when he slaps the table hard. Kyungsoo inevitably takes Jongdae’s food, and the tattooist only gives him knowing eyes when Kyungsoo automatically munches on the bacon strip. 

“I’ve got something to confess…” Jongdae says after a few dying chuckles. Kyungsoo feels the ounce of seriousness in it. He bashfully pouts. “I got a tattoo.” 

Kyungsoo nearly drops his fork. “Aish, Jongdae. I thought you were going to say something drastic – Oh my God, stop rolling up your pants -!”

“Shh!” Jongdae hushes the other as he rolls up his shorts on his left leg (God knows why the man can wear shorts in this October cold). There, wrapped in some saran wrap, is a burst of color on his left quad. The wrap skews it a little, but Kyungsoo can make out the bursting rays of yellow and a dark center. 

It’s a sunflower. 

“I got it today. Do you like it?” 

Jongdae’s eyes already say it. It’s not smugness, but he already knows the answer. The way that Kyungsoo’s jaw drops makes it known all-too-well. This was his suggestion. 

“Good,” Kyungsoo swallows. “It looks good.” 

That’s an understatement. “You took my suggestion.” 

Jongdae shrugs, “Yeah, well, you read people really well, Kyungsoo. It’s exactly what I needed. Thank you.” 

Jongdae rolls down his pant leg and continues, “It’s still healing, so I’ll have to wear shorts until half-way through November.” 

“You could have waited until it was warmer to get it.” 

Jongdae shakes his head with a small smile, “Nah, I needed it.” 

Kyungsoo acknowledges with a nod, but his heart still pumps hard in his chest. It suits him well, but he’s sure Jongdae got other more meaningful offers. The fact that he went with Kyungsoo’s makes him swell in pride and makes him choke on his own breath. 

They talk again for hours until the night becomes old. Jongdae pays for the meal, even after Kyungsoo’s pleas. They bid Minseok a good night and travel back out into the cold night. They walk slow and their arms bump up against each other as they travel on the sidewalks. Breaths peel out from their nose like smoke and their eyes are glowing by the moon’s bright reflection. 

“I didn’t tell you this before, but I was actually having a really tough day,” Jongdae breathes into the air with a hard sigh. Kyungsoo leans in more to listen. “I don’t know. All of a sudden I just felt so stuck. I haven’t had a walk-in in days, and I had a creative block. You were gone all day, and Chanyeol and Baek were busy. I … I just.” 

He groans with frustration and says defeatedly, “I wanted to drink.” 

“Oh.” Kyungsoo pats him on the back for comfort. He asks carefully, “Is that why you got the tattoo? You needed a distraction?” 

“Well, in the moment, yeah, I needed _something_. But I hate feeling like that. I feel so desperate. I feel like a burden to ask for some comfort.” Jongdae walks with a pout on his lips and disdain written in his eyes. Kyungsoo thinks that it doesn’t look good on him. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve wanted this tattoo for a while.” 

It makes Kyungsoo’s heart soar the way that Jongdae talks about the tattoo, _his tattoo_. It got him through a dark time, and it’s the least that Kyungsoo could do. 

“You’re okay now though, right?” Kyungsoo asks as a shiver rolls through him. Jongdae breaks out into a smile. 

“Yeah. I’m glad we got to go out together. It was nice to just talk.” Jongdae suddenly halts, probably aware of Kyungsoo’s shivering. He instantly sheds his jacket. “You’re cold? Take my jacket.” 

“I’m okay,” Kyungsoo mutters, but still allows Jongdae to put his leather jacket over his shoulders. It’s got a heaviness to it that makes Kyungsoo want to shrink into a ball and curl in the warmth. He leans into Jongdae as thanks as they continue walking. 

“Yeah, sorry about walking in the cold. I assure you that my car will be fixed for our second date.” 

Kyungsoo’s heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t let it show in his voice. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” 

He wouldn’t consider this a date. If eating together and talking was a considered a date, then they’ve been dating for nearly six months now. 

But Jongdae doesn’t miss a beat, still shining brightly in the night with a grin. “I like the term _hopeful_.”

It’s a couple more blocks before they return to their apartments. Kyungsoo returns the jacket at the top of the stairs, and they both are about to turn to their respective apartments. There’s a feeling in Kyungsoo’s chest that doesn’t sit right. Before he knows it, his instincts are jumping and words are falling out of his mouth. 

“About the date thing …”

Jongdae is turning around sheepishly. By the tone of Kyungsoo’s voice, he looks a little sheepish. He’s scratching at his head. 

“Well, it was just –“

“There’s the new Marvel movie that just came out at the theatre. Let’s go next week?” 

It’s Jongdae’s turn to look stunned. Kyungsoo feels the nerves inside him tingle. He hasn’t done this in a while, but he has a good feeling about it. Jongdae’s stunned look is fleeting, and it soon returns to a softer smile, which compliments his cute fringe and blushed cheeks. 

“Yeah,” Jongdae breathes and Kyungsoo loses his. “I’d love to.” 

-

Love is really simple. It’s an artform, and beloved connection. Kisses are just an expression of the art that is love - a stroke of a brush or the scent of a flower. It’s something so sacred, and no one is ever really perfect at it. It’s simplistic yet confusing and frustrating and beautiful all at the same time. 

Kyungsoo knows this as he shows Jongdae his greenhouse, his prized possession. The Christmas lights flicker on in the darkest hour. They close the door tight to not let the wind breeze past and the flowers catch a cold. It’s warm and humid in here. Water drips from the timed sprinklers above and the ground is freshly moistened. 

“This is amazing. This is where your supply comes from?” Jongdae asks in awe, almond eyes widening at the rainbow fields. 

Kyungsoo chuckles at his childlike wonder. “This is for the extra shipments, like a stockroom. I wish it were closer, but the town doesn’t allow the building permits.” 

“Well…”

Jongdae somehow slips underneath Kyungsoo’s radar, because now they’re holding hands. He’s got a twinkle in his eye, but Kyungsoo is sure it’s just the Christmas lights that warm their faces. Kyungsoo makes a face, questioning every little menacing thought that Jongdae projects. He whispers gently, “Come on. Introduce me.” 

Introducing Jongdae to the flowers is like introducing him to the family. Jongdae is inquisitive and acting very proper among them, as if they are sacred. Kyungsoo shows the poppies, the zinnias, white roses, mums, galanthus, tulips, and so much more. 

Kyungsoo introduces the bright red soft petals to Jongdae. He’s intrigued by their hue, and Kyungsoo can’t help but indulge. “These are red pelargoniums. This species comes from South Africa.” 

Jongdae’s fingers linger on the petals, but his eyes wander around still. He mutters, “So beautiful.” 

“I try to get the best,” Kyungsoo humbly bites, but he’s still shy about it. This is his home, his life. He’s so vulnerable here. 

“Kyungsoo, look. Our tulips are touching.” 

Kyungsoo scrunches his nose and scoffs, “Are you -? We aren’t even near the tulips. I just said those are pela –“

Jongdae just gently swoops in and captures Kyungsoo’s lips softly. It’s like rose petals gently caressing him. Kyungsoo only vaguely notices the tattooists hand cupping his jaw when he comes down from his high. 

With the gentlest release, Jongdae stares expectantly at the florist. Kyungsoo is bewildered for a moment, the kiss still lingering, but then he finally croaks, “How long have you been waiting to use that pick-up line?” 

Jongdae's grin spreads. “A couple months.” 

Kyungsoo feels himself roll his eyes, but, at the same, leaning in with a stupid smile. When they press again in a sweet kiss, Kyungsoo feels all his agitation simmer away. It’s slow, unrushed and just right for Kyungsoo’s pace. The florist gently worms his way in Jongdae’s embrace, hands fitting nicely on Jongdae’s skinny waist. His fingers tap a mindless rhythm on his hips as the other leads the kiss with long presses, advancing slowly. 

Jongdae nearly trips over and topples on Kyungsoo when he guides the florist backwards to the furnished loveseat, sneakers squeaking against the floor damp with sprinkler water. There’s gentle laughs between them that breathe into each other as they continue to kiss with a little more intensity than the gentle waves. 

“S-stop laughing,” Kyungsoo barely manages to get out without his own low laugh, especially when Jongdae’s fingers tickle at his sides when the henna tattooed hand sneakily gets underneath his shirt. Jongdae presses kisses down his neck in an apology, and Kyungsoo sighs dreamily. 

“You know, I thought the couch in a remote greenhouse was a little sketchy, but it’s super convenient for hookups.” 

Kyungsoo, the ever pointed, responds defensively, “I never hooked up here.” 

Jongdae mouths at his collar bone, eyelashes fluttering not-so innocently. “Missed opportunities then.” 

Kyungsoo’s heart flutters nervously, especially with Jongdae’s deceiving mouth. One minute he’s smiling so prettily, and the next he’s whispering dirty things. The Cheshire smile on his lips doesn’t help. 

The florist smooths a hand through Jongdae’s hair, and the other instinctually pauses to give the best smile – the one that is disarming and alarming all at the same time. Kyungsoo likes it – no, he definitely loves it. Jongdae’s got that look in his eye, like Kyungsoo is his entire world and that he’d stop the world just to listen to him. It makes Kyungsoo’s heart flutter and toss unabashedly. 

Yes, the tattoos were a bit striking at first, especially with Jongdae’s constant flexing (not a bad thing anymore) and Kyungsoo’s upbringing. However, the florist grew into it. The art is a part of Jongdae, and he would be so bare without it. Like wearing his heart on his sleeve, Jongdae takes it literally by wearing his persona on his skin. 

After hours of flirty kissing that leads to nowhere but a cuddle pile, the two neighbors lay on the couch in tangled limbs. Jongdae’s tattooed arms encircle Kyungsoo’s waist, henna hand interlaced with Kyungsoo’s flower picking hand. Kyungsoo leans his head back, which subsequently presses into Jongdae’s forehead. The florist breathes easily in the tattooists embrace, eyes closed with rose-colored dreams underneath his eyelids. Jongdae presses slow kisses to the back of Kyungsoo’s neck and his lip curls put a firm stamp on Kyungsoo’s skin. 

“You should get a tattoo. Something simple. Your skin is so beautiful,” Jongdae whispers, his breath tickling the hairs on Kyungsoo’s neck. A thumb brushes the sensitive space behind Kyungsoo’s ear, and the florist shivers unintentionally. “Maybe right here. Something that you can easily hide, like a star.” 

The tingles make Kyungsoo uncomfortable (or maybe just nervous), and he loosely grabs Jongdae’s wrist to stop the motion. He shifts in the embrace and seriously looks to Jongdae. He scoffs, “An ear tattoo, really? That’s pretty basic, don’t you think?” 

Jongdae flushes immediately at the comment, and Kyungsoo doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jongdae so flustered. He stumbles on his words, eyes shifting away from Kyungsoo’s face. “Ah, I don’t know. I just thought – mmm, you’re right. No, you’re right. It’s dumb.” 

Kyungsoo shifts again, now they lay chest to chest, his legs slotted between Jongdae’s. He wraps his hands around Jongdae’s neck, thumb brushing up against Jongdae’s hairline. Kyungsoo smiles knowingly as he brushes against the tiny lightning bolt behind Jongdae’s right ear, one of his fresher tattoos, and pulls the tattooist in for a brief, warm kiss. 

“I’ll think about it,” Kyungsoo breathes against Jongdae’s lip curl, kissing him until Jongdae sprouts a smile and can’t help but laugh in between. 

-

Kyungsoo just finished cleaning the kitchen when he hears hurried steps outside his door. Kyungsoo smiles as he walks toward his entrance. He hears the telltale jingle of keys that ultimately get dropped in the hallway, followed by an eloquent mutter of _shit_.

Kyungsoo opens his door and looks unsurprised when he sees Jongdae there with a pout on his lips as he tries to reach his keys on the hallway floor with an armful of sad looking boxes. Jongdae looks like a helpless child, but Kyungsoo still finds a chuckle in his throat. “Need some help?” 

Jongdae blinks, and finally realizes that the florist is staring, so he finally relieves himself of everything. The box goes to the floor with a sigh, and Jongdae finally stretches his aching limbs with vigor. He grins, “Nope! Just getting my daily lifts in.” 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and leans on his door frame. “With what, exactly?” 

“Christmas decorations!” Jongdae cries joyously, and it’s like bells to Kyungsoo’s ears. 

“Christmas isn’t for another month. Get through Thanksgiving first before you get in the Christmas mood.” 

“Well, you never can be too early!” Jongdae shrugs, but his smile fades slightly. “Mom dropped them off downstairs.” 

Kyungsoo nods, understanding. He knows that strain perfectly well. It will pass with time, Kyungsoo knows this too. This year, at least, his father asked him to come home for Thanksgiving. They’ll, of course, be serving the whole neighborhood, but it’s still something to be thankful for. He’s still not sure if he wants to go. 

“Alright, go put your toys away, and then come over. I was waiting for you,” Kyungsoo instructs before closing the door on Jongdae’s silly grin. 

Not a mere minute later, Jongdae’s rushing in, eyes sizing up Kyungsoo, before diving into a hug. Kyungsoo relaxes into it as he’s smothered into the couch, face pressed into a cushion. Jongdae nuzzles his way into Kyungsoo’s space, warming him since the heat hasn’t kicked in yet. It’s nice and comforting. Jongdae is always the bearer of good heartfelt hugs, and he’s also great at reading Kyungsoo. He knows when the other doesn’t want attention, would rather be left alone. Perhaps this is why Jongdae liked cats more than dogs. 

“Hey,” Kyungsoo calls out bravely. He’s got a hand in Jongdae’s hair, stroking it idly. Jongdae nuzzles into Kyungsoo’s neck as a reply. “Do you want to eat?” 

Jongdae stills and looks at his phone. “I mean, I just ate like, I don’t know… twenty minutes ago?” 

Kyungsoo wants to crawl into a space and die of embarrassment. He swallows thickly. “Uh, not what I meant.” 

Jongdae sits up a little to squint at Kyungsoo, and the florist feels like he’s under inspection. Kyungsoo tries to explain again, and it’s awkward. “A treat.” 

“That’s still eating.” 

Kyungsoo flushes, “No, not that kind of eating.” 

Realization dawns on Jongdae’s face in short little bursts, and it would be comical if not for Kyungsoo’s total embarrassment of asking the question so indirectly. Jongdae has the smuggest look. “I’d love to eat you out.” 

Kyungsoo immediately smacks the back of Jongdae’s head, and the other fakes a wince. “Subtlety is a thing, you know.” 

Jongdae lifts his river arm and strokes behind Kyungsoo’s ear, thumb massaging the sensitive spot. It sends sensual tingles down Kyungsoo’s spine. Jongdae purrs, “Not with this, love.” 

Jongdae presses chaste little kisses to Kyungsoo’s lips, each peck lingering a little longer than the last. It turns embarrassed Kyungsoo into a warm pile of goo, and soon he’s melting into the couch. Jongdae disarms him easily, the softness enveloping them without any rush. There’s more than enough time for them. He wraps his arms around his boyfriends waist just to leverage himself before drowning in this feeling. 

“Are you prepped?” Jongdae asks between kisses, moving his head to kiss at the florists neck. Kyungsoo scrunches his nose in distaste. 

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. That’s just gross.” 

Jongdae laughs breathily against his skin and it feels like their own set of kisses. He comes back up and grins against Kyungsoo’s lips, “Oh? So you were planning on something happening tonight then? So naughty.” 

Jongdae presses kisses to Kyungsoo’s skin, trailing them to the florists neck, each pressing gently. Kyungsoo sighs into each press, releasing his breath hesitantly in case for a rogue embarrassing cry that might erupt. He threads both hands, all of his fingers, in Jongdae’s short shaggy hair, each digit giving thanks by massaging his scalp. When Jongdae’s tongue licks at his jawline and his lips wrap around delicate skin and suckle, Kyungsoo can’t help but tug and squeeze his hands against his boyfriend. 

“Come on,” Jongdae whispers into the heat of the moment. Kyungsoo follows diligently, letting the other pull him into the bedroom ( _his – no, their – bedroom_ ). Kyungsoo laid out new sheets before, and now he’s laying in their freshness as Jongdae absolutely ruins him. The tattooist takes his time, fingers dancing at waistband of Kyungsoo’s sweatpants. There’s a few kisses pressed to his stomach when his shirt rides up and the florist holds his breath until Jongdae stops teasing. 

Kyungsoo’s sweatpants and underwear roll down his legs and he’s finally stripped and bare. When the garments slip off his feet gently by Jongdae’s doing, Kyungsoo feels shy and exposed. Jongdae’s hands cup the outsides of Kyungsoo’s supple thighs and drag him to the edge of the bed. From here, the tattooist wiggles his way knelt in between his boyfriends legs, hands still running up and down his bare thighs. 

When Jongdae starts leaving a trail of kisses up his inner thigh to his hip, Kyungsoo finally notices all his blood rushing south and blooming his length steadily. Kyungsoo shuts his eyes to savor Jongdae’s soft lips making contact with his smooth skin, and it’s electrifying. Kyungsoo always cleans up well for Jongdae – it makes the act less messy this way. 

This teasing is something that gets both of them riled up, but the room is mostly silent save for choked breaths and wet kisses. Jongdae gives no attention to Kyungsoo’s growing length, but does catch Kyungsoo off guard when he gives his balls a warm tentative lick. 

“Lift your legs up,” Jongdae orders and assists, stroking the backsides of Kyungsoo’s thighs as he uses his core strength to lift them. Jongdae then uses one hand to stabilize them high in the air, leaving Kyungsoo’s ass exposed. Kyungsoo can only lay amongst the sheets, he can’t even sit up to watch Jongdae and the little games he plays. He feels so vulnerable like this and at Jongdae’s mercy like this. 

Kisses rain down the sensitive skin of his thighs and teeth even gently graze his cheeks. The other hand not holding his legs cups one cheek and a thumb gently spreads it. Kyungsoo clenches up at the sudden contact to air on his hole, but Jongdae easily places it back. His voice is warm, dripping slowly like honey, kissing his thighs between praises, “You’re so good for me, Kyungsoo. You’re amazing, so beautiful like this.” 

Kyungsoo’s heart flutters at the lush praises, and it distracts him from the preparation process. Jongdae has always been careful. He was upfront about his protection policies – always clean, always safe. No matter the circumstance, he didn’t take a chance, just like with his work. Kyungsoo didn’t mind either, it felt good all the same anyway. 

Jongdae creates his dental dam and presses it up against Kyungsoo’s hole. The material is thin, it feels smooth like a glove against his skin. The side on him is also covered in lube, and there’s a little nub that’s nudging into his sensitive hole. When Jongdae spreads his cheek again with his hand cupping his ass and breathes hot air against the dam, the material feels like nothing against him. His mouth then presses up against the material and Kyungsoo nearly looses his breath like this. He can feel it all, the way the Jongdae’s lips curl into his barely touched area, and his controlled motions feel like heaven. 

His tongue presses flat against him, lapping at his tingling perineum and then back down to his hole. Jongdae then gently breaches Kyungsoo, pressing his tongue into Kyungsoo’s clenched hole. Kyungsoo screws his eyes closed and fists the sheets at the breach. His legs are trembling at their still lifted position even with Jongdae’s assistance. There’s sweat collecting behind his knees from the ache and pleasure, and he’s not sure if he can control his muscles there any longer. Not to mention, his cock is hard on his stomach, untouched and sensitive. He wants to touch, but he knows Jongdae always has a plan for him. He never neglects Kyungsoo. 

After some light breaching and tongue fucks, Jongdae releases Kyungsoo’s legs and places them over his shoulders. Kyungsoo breathes finally and sits up on his elbows to watch Jongdae. His eyes are shining darkly, especially in between Kyungsoo’s thick thighs and his chin already collected with saliva. Kyungsoo peeks around his hard dick to see the black dental dam, and he flushes beautiful at the realization. 

“Are you using your gloves?” Kyungsoo asks and notices how his voice isn’t totally wrecked. Not yet, at least. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t find my usual dams, but a glove works too. It does the trick. You like it?” Jongdae casually asks, as if he doesn’t have Kyungsoo’s legs over his shoulders and is about to eat ass. 

Kyungsoo flushes hard and feels his cock twitch. He involuntarily shifts his body towards Jongdae’s mouth. “It feels good.” 

Jongdae’s grin blooms beautifully underneath Kyungsoo’s body, and that might turn Kyungsoo on more than the feeling of the smooth gloves. It looks so natural and genuine, and that makes Kyungsoo gush with euphoric butterflies in his stomach. 

Jongdae eats him out like this for some time, eyes closed in concentration as he breaches past Kyungsoo’s tight ring of muscle and laps internally. It makes Kyungsoo’s toes curl, especially when he curls his tongue right _there_. Kyungsoo ends up threading one hand in Jongdae’s hair and the other is fisted in his mouth, muffling his groans. He doesn’t like being loud, despite Jongdae’s reassurance (“at least your neighbor isn’t going to complain” – he says with a cheeky wink). Jongdae constantly praises Kyungsoo anyway, and anything louder just makes it unbearably embarrassing for Kyungsoo. 

Just as Kyungsoo feels like grinding back onto Jongdae’s tongue, the other separates and crawls up onto the bed. He wipes his chin with a prepared towel and smiles nicely at Kyungsoo. Even though there was a dental dam between Jongdae’s mouth and Kyungsoo’s asshole, there’s no way that Kyungsoo wants to kiss him now (even if he really, _really_ wants to). Instead, Kyungsoo starts kissing Jongdae’s neck and pants heavily when Jongdae’s sneaky hands pumps his cock languidly, twisting at the head and running a finger down the thick vein. 

Kyungsoo gently scrapes his teeth against Jongdae’s Adam’s apple, and the other swallows hard. In the hot moment, he suggests, “Sit on my face.” 

Kyungsoo raises a brow to that, but doesn’t really question it when the hand on his dick slows. They’ve both said they would up for it, no one really objecting to it, but they haven’t actually done it. Or, well, Kyungsoo hasn’t done it. Most of their sexual experiences together have been successful firsts on Kyungsoo’s part. Face sitting is one that Kyungsoo is a little shier about. Since he is less experienced sexually (especially with gay men), he would rather be directed than be the dominant – simply because he isn’t entirely sure how to go about it. That’s where Jongdae’s gentleness and continuous praises come in handy, especially when he takes the lead easily without any teasing or maliciousness. Kyungsoo knows when they explore, and he becomes more comfortable, he’ll definitely put Jongdae’s loud mouth to good use. 

Jongdae strips quickly, nearly tripping over his tight jeans, and leaves himself in just his briefs. When he lays on the soft sheets, Kyungsoo can see a clear outline of his boyfriends hardness in his underwear, and it makes him swell with some confidence. Jongdae beckons Kyungsoo to come over, and the other does, swinging his legs over and straddling Jongdae. Kyungsoo takes his own shirt off and then braces himself on Jongdae’s torso, waiting for Jongdae to get himself situated. 

“You can lower yourself, don’t be shy,” Jongdae sings sweetly from underneath him, and Kyungsoo shivers again when Jongdae reaches up and strokes his hip. 

“I’m afraid that I’m going to crush you and you won’t breathe,” Kyungsoo admits. He’s glad that he’s facing Jongdae’s lower half because he doesn’t want to other to know his embarrassment. 

“Aw, babe. I’d love to go out like that – suffocated by your thick ass -” Jongdae hums delightfully, even when Kyungsoo covers his mouth out of embarrassment. Jongdae then rubs soothing circles in his hip. Kyungsoo is still on edge though, despite the comforting strokes. “Here, if I tap your leg three times, that means I need you to lift up. Okay?” 

He taps Kyungsoo’s thigh three times steadily, and Kyungsoo likes the feel of it. He nods, and then flushes again. He lowers himself and agrees quietly. 

Jongdae takes care of him, stroking the florists thighs up and down as he slowly coaxes him to relax. To say that Jongdae’s tongue is talented is an understatement – it might be the best damn thing Kyungsoo’s ever felt, even shoved into his ass. It licks all in the right places, and the dental dam doesn’t even prevent him from feeling everything. It swirls outside and then plunges thinly before spreading Kyungsoo carefully. The stretch isn’t painful, instead a pleasurable burn with the stretch. Kyungsoo bites his lips just to muffle himself, and he involuntarily grinds down on the tongue that’s lapping at his internally walls. 

There’s hot breaths and muffled groans between Kyungsoo, and Jongdae’s are muffled by the skin between them. The pace has only begun and Kyungsoo’s cock is leaking already. 

There’s three steady taps on his thigh that catches him off guard. He instantly lifts and already has a flurry of questions: “Are you alright? Is there anything wrong? Did I hurt you?” 

Beneath his body, Jongdae stares up with a bewildered look and easy stretch of a smile. He chuckles heartily, “Me? I’m having a blast down here. What about you?” 

Kyungsoo feels a flush run up his back. “It’s great.” 

“Good,” Jongdae grins, but his fingers are rubbing soothing circles in Kyungsoo’s thighs, and that means that he’s softening the blow. “But how am I supposed to know that down here?” 

He drags his teeth across his lips and breathes a little heavier. It sends pleasant shivers down to Kyungsoo’s dick. “I’d love it if you made some noise, babe. Let me know I’m doing a good job – you know I like that. I just want to hear something from you. Yeah? Now let me have that ass again.” 

Jongdae pushes Kyungsoo back, instantly licking up at the hole that’s been neglected. Kyungsoo instantly clams up, tightening himself at the sudden protrusion. As soon as Jongdae’s tongue begins to lap pleasurably, Kyungsoo finally loosens. Jongdae’s hands rubbing dangerously at his cock has him feeling a certain way too, and then he finally releases tiny gasps. Jongdae lets out a pleased sound and mouths around the puckered hole. 

“Jongdae,” Kyungsoo moans softly with a harsh breath in the next second. He slips his eyes closed and grinds slightly down onto the tongue. “Your tongue is so good. Fuck me with that tongue. Please.” 

Jongdae winds his arm around Kyungsoo’s legs to hold open his ass, effectively trapping the florist. Jongdae makes more room, diving his mouth into Kyungsoo’s hole, and the other pants heavily at the breach. Jongdae squeezes both cheeks with more than a handful in each hand, and Kyungsoo loves being handled like this. He feels open and secure in Jongdae’s tatted arms. 

The florist can’t stand the new pace Jongdae sets, now really tongue fucking Kyungsoo with vigor. He leans forward and stabilizes his hands on Jongdae’s taut stomach. In this position, the florist can see everything. There’s a heavy cock trapped in his underwear, twitching at every compliment. His tight thighs tense with every moan – the ice wolf glaring at Kyungsoo hotly and the sunflower beaming up at him like the blessing. 

“Yes,” Kyungsoo groans delightfully when Jongdae starts to stroke his neglected cock finally, and Jongdae hums beneath him. Each flick of Jongdae’s wrist makes Kyungsoo want to grind his way to his orgasm, but he knows Jongdae will take care of him. He’s good at that, not letting Kyungsoo on with teasing or edging (unless he asked). Jongdae makes quick work of Kyungsoo’s dick, and Kyungsoo involuntarily rocks back and forth to fuck his hand and get Jongdae’s tongue deeper. 

“Ah,” Kyungsoo leads on, repeating it like a mantra with Jongdae’s name mixed in between pants. “Jongdae, oh shit…. Oh, _oh_.”

His toes are curling underneath his kneeled position, and he’s so sensitive right now that he wants to lift his hips from Jongdae. The other must sense it because he grounds the other by hands on Kyungsoo’s hips. Kyungsoo then grinds himself down on Jongdae’s sculpted face, wiggling and groaning as he rides out his orgasm. It tingles and pools at his lower half and finally has him shooting off, spraying against Jongdae’s stomach. 

Jongdae’s hand doesn’t stop, milking Kyungsoo dry as the man above him cries out nicely for him. He’s undone completely, shaking when Jongdae finally finishes him. After a moment of living in the afterglow, Kyungsoo finally crawls forward onto his hands and knees, still straddling Jongdae’s body. There’s a mess between them, splattered between their stomachs, but Kyungsoo doesn’t care. He’s on a mission. 

Kyungsoo strokes at the now obvious bulge in Jongdae’s underwear, and the tattooist underneath him stiffens from the excitement. Kyungsoo continues, sliding his cupped hand back and forth along the shaft, the fabric catching at the head and shifting nicely against Jongdae’s skin. The tattooist’s hands circles around Kyungsoo and firmly grab his ass. Kyungsoo instantly pushes back into his boyfriends touch and cups his balls. 

“Soo,” Jongdae breathes and then draws out a nasally whine. “Fuck, I’m really close.” 

Jongdae’s noisy. He’s always been vocal, especially when it comes to anything in the bedroom. He’s just loud, plain and simple. He likes to be heard, but he doesn’t do it all the time, just when it’s important. Sex, in this way, is very embarrassing for Kyungsoo because he’s no match to Jongdae’s loudness, but it’s also fun. Kyungsoo ends up laughing along with Jongdae, and they kiss away the awkwardness without any qualms. 

Jongdae’s legs squirm underneath and his hips push up from the bed below, rocking into Kyungsoo’s hand to brush up. Jongdae squeezes Kyungsoo’s ass hard, fingers diving into the skin hard, before giving out a huge cry. It’s stuck in his throat when he starts to breathe again, “Ah, no… I’m gonna come-“

He grunts and squirms as Kyungsoo holds his clothed dick, now splotching with a warm wet patch underneath. After a few tense muscle spasms, Jongdae’s hips relax back down and he breathes out a sigh, followed by a whimper, “I ruined my underwear.” 

“I couldn’t get it off of you fast enough,” Kyungsoo laughs and then rolls over onto the bed on his back, now opposite of Jongdae. They’re both sticky and gross, and Kyungsoo is way too close to Jongdae’s feet than he’d like to be, but it was fun. This is about as spontaneous as Kyungsoo can get. 

Jongdae is carefully dragging himself off the bed without ruining the sheets even more, tiptoeing his way out of his underwear. He points to the bathroom, “Want to shower?” 

“Are you offering my own shower to me? You’re such a moocher.” 

His boyfriend sheds off his underwear and purposively shows off his new tattoo sporting across his rib cage – a quote from his grandmother (“ _Life is simple and sweet. Let’s not make it complicated._ ”). It’s beautifully scrawled, one that Kyungsoo actually might consider on his own body if he had the right quote. The flow of the words somehow fits Jongdae’s theme with flowing water, wispy mountain tops, and natures gifts. 

Jongdae offers a brilliant smile, radiant like a sunflower. “A moocher and a good smoocher.” 

“Charming. I’m in love with a modern poet.” 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, especially when Jongdae barks out a loud laugh, but he follows him to the bathroom anyway. They share the briefest kiss, and Kyungsoo pleasantly hums in agreement. 

Jongdae goes in for more, sweetly pressing another kiss and another, until Kyungsoo feels like he’s going to melt. Kyungsoo mutters against another slow press, “We can make out after the shower. I showed you the water bill last month, right?” 

“Mhm,” Jongdae hums, kissing him again as he pulls the other into the shower. The warm water runs down them both, taking their sweat and grime away. Kyungsoo wraps his hands around Jongdae’s biceps, around the flexed temple and water sketched around his arms. He presses nicely against Kyungsoo again, asking for more kisses even though Kyungsoo just said no. “We might get dirty again, though.” 

Kyungsoo can’t help but let Jongdae have his way, especially with his tongue licking in such an enticing way. He’s agreeing before even voicing it. He feels so good here underneath Jongdae’s grand temple and water spirits painted in his arms. He doesn’t even know he’s smiling against Jongdae’s lips until it’s too late, “You’ll pay for the bill then.” 

The wolf and sunflower gang up on Kyungsoo, pinning him against the shower wall. Jongdae’s eyes are completely harmless though, actually kind. “Of course, darling.” 

-

The new year rings in with their simple routine. Kyungsoo brings over sandwiches, turkey for Jongdae and chicken for Kyungsoo, and fruit juices that Chanyeol has been raving about. Jongdae bounces up to the florist and plants a chaste kiss to his lips in a greeting. It warms Kyungsoo more than the scarf around his neck. 

Just as they’re settled, the familiar chime of the tattoo shop front door rings, and a familiar figure in a professional sweater walks in. 

“Oh, hi there Principal Kim,” Jongdae says with a mouthful of sandwich. Kyungsoo kindly hands him a napkin to his face. 

The principal of the highschool, Kim Junmyeon, looks stressed, wiping his fingers through his gelled hair. He gasps, and quickly slides into the shop, “You’re Jongdae, right? You’re the tattoo artist? Can you do cover ups?” 

Jongdae blinks slowly, registering the principals words. “Yeah, of course I can. I’d have to see it to know what I’m working with.” 

“Yes, sure. Whatever you need.” 

The principal looks to the table, to Kyungsoo, and quickly widens his eyes. “Oh, hi there, Kyungsoo. Good to see you.” 

Kyungsoo simply nods and is just a little bemused at the principal’s erratic behavior. 

Junmyeon whispers, “Um, can we do it somewhere private. It’s a little …”

“Sure, follow me,” Jongdae chirps. He lifts himself from his seat and lets the principal follow him to the back office, leaving Kyungsoo in the foyer. Kyungsoo is left to his own imagination. He wonders if perhaps a student got caught with a stupid tattoo, or a staffer with a regrettable one. Perhaps, even the principal himself -

“Oh, well that’s something.” 

He hears Jongdae snicker a little as he reenters the main hallway, the principal with a dark blush on his face biting his lip. 

He pleads, “Please, it was just … a mistake. A really big mistake.” 

“Whoever roped you into that one …” Jongdae starts to laugh, catching his eyes with Kyungsoo’s. The florist can only imagine what it would be. “Anyway, yes I can get it covered up. It’s not too big, and we’re not trying to make it any bigger.” 

“When’s the earliest you can do it?” Junmyeon quickly rattles off. 

“Hmm, well.” Jongdae turns to his boyfriend. “Soo, you think I can dish it out in 40 minutes?” 

Kyungsoo swallows his sandwich. “Come on, give yourself some credit. Half hour with 10 minutes for extra.” 

Jongdae lifts his mischievous little curls into a smirk. “Well, I was including the extra 10 minutes in my 40, but that’s being generous. 25.” 

Kyungsoo shrugs. “If I’m being honest, your line work takes less than 5 and the other is just filler.” 

Junmyeon squeaks, “Don’t rush it, please. I need it to look good. You’re the best tattooist in town.” 

Jongdae turns serious to the principal. “I’m the only tattooist in town.” 

“That’s the joke.” 

“I don’t get your jokes.” 

“Please help me.” 

Jongdae starts to laugh at Junmyeon’s desperation (Kyungsoo thinks it’s going just a little too far). The tattooist slaps his hand on the principals shoulder and rubs into the muscle. “Don’t worry, Principal Kim. You can trust me. Right, Soo?” 

Junmyeon looks nervous as all hell in Jongdae’s palms, but Jongdae has this teasing little smile on his lips. It’s all an act, he’s a giant softie inside. 

The florist smiles softly. “He’s got the most talented hands in the world, don’t you worry.” 


End file.
